I work with a large number of people who are fluent in Spanish and English. Some of them are from areas with large Spanish speaking populations and who grew up being bilingual, some are immigrants from various Hispanic countries who have managed to learn English and speak it better than an alarming number of natives, and many are children of people who fled Mexico several years ago. I don't know why they fled that country, and while I probably should, I'm far too lazy to look that kind of stuff up. There are any number of salacious reality shows on television. Why waste my time educating myself when I could spend it wondering why the girl with the gigantic fake boobs slept with him?
One day, quite a while back, one of my employees said that he was going to go out for lunch and asked if I'd like him to pick up something for me. I asked him what he was going to be getting, and he said he was going to grab some tacos.
Me: Oh, thanks for asking! I'm not in the mood for Taco Bell, though.
Employee: Ewww. I'm not going to The Bell. I'm talking about real tacos.
Me: [perking up] Oh! Like Baja Fresh?
Employee: [Collapsing into a chair, presumably overwhelmed by the stupid] No, gringo. REAL tacos. Real Mexican tacos.
Me: Ooh!!! I think I might like that! Where are you going?
Employee: Uh... just some people I know that make tacos.
Me: What kind?
Employee: All kinds. You can get whatever you want. Carne, pollo. Whatever.
Me: OK!!! I'll take a couple beef tacos. Oh, sorry. Carne! Hee! Did you hear me just habla?
Employee: Yeah, nice job. *cough* Anyway, what do you want on your tacos? You can get whatever you want. Guacamole, salsa, lettuce, onions...
Me: I'd just like some cilantro and lime juice. Can they do that?
Employee: [rolling eyes] Uh, yeah. I'm pretty sure they can swing that.
Me: Don't laugh at me! I habla'ed and everything!
So anyway, about 20 minutes later he came back bearing the most glorious food ever. I scarfed those tacos down, snorting and grunting the entire time. After I was finished I went outside and smoked a cigarette. They were that good.
A couple months later this same employee said that he was going back to get more tacos and would I like any. I almost broke my ankle sprinting to my purse to get him the money. The second experience was every bit as beautiful as the first. I asked the employee where, oh where, were these maestros of the taco located? He hesitated, pointed over his shoulder, and said that they were "that way." That kind of vague crap simply would not do. I pressed for more information.
Me: Do they have a restaurant?
Employee: Uh, no. I don't think you could call it that.
Me: Well then where do you go to get the food?
Employee: They have a truck... kinda.
Me: Oh! Like a mobile taco stand?
Employee: If you want to call it that.
Me: So it's like a little trailer or something?
Employee: No, it's more like a van.
Me: Oh! So kind of like an ice cream truck that they sell tacos out of?
Employee: Uh... it's more like out of the back of their van.
Me: Huh. Ok. Well, where are they?
Employee: It might not be a good idea to say.
Me: What? I'd be one of their best customers! How is that not a good thing?
Employee: [blinks]
Me: [finally catching the hint] Oh, I see. Are they trying to keep a low profile?
Employee: Yeah, you could say that. They're not supposed to be here.
Me: Ah, ok. Well I don't give a crap what their legal status is, I just want to know where I can go to get more of those tacos. These things are like crack to me.
Employee: They stay down by the river in a van. They sell tacos to make some money.
Me: Down by the river? Huh. Really? There's not much down there other than a... uh, park.
Employee: Yeah. They don't have anywhere to go.
Me: Damn... that sounds pretty rough. I hope they can make it. [Then, unable to resist, because I am a total jackass sometimes] So they're LIVING IN A VAN DOWN BY THE RIVER?!?!?!
The taco-dealing employee now works the overnight shift, so I only see him as he's leaving work and I'm arriving. I still don't know exactly where these taco vendors are, and while I hope that their fortunes have changed and permitted them to move out of the VAN DOWN BY THE RIVER, I'm still disturbed that I have no idea as to their whereabouts. Their food was that good. And I wouldn't be surprised if one of these days I got a craving and ended up getting arrested for wandering around the riverbank shouting about where the bitches were who make the awesome tacos.
One day, quite a while back, one of my employees said that he was going to go out for lunch and asked if I'd like him to pick up something for me. I asked him what he was going to be getting, and he said he was going to grab some tacos.
Me: Oh, thanks for asking! I'm not in the mood for Taco Bell, though.
Employee: Ewww. I'm not going to The Bell. I'm talking about real tacos.
Me: [perking up] Oh! Like Baja Fresh?
Employee: [Collapsing into a chair, presumably overwhelmed by the stupid] No, gringo. REAL tacos. Real Mexican tacos.
Me: Ooh!!! I think I might like that! Where are you going?
Employee: Uh... just some people I know that make tacos.
Me: What kind?
Employee: All kinds. You can get whatever you want. Carne, pollo. Whatever.
Me: OK!!! I'll take a couple beef tacos. Oh, sorry. Carne! Hee! Did you hear me just habla?
Employee: Yeah, nice job. *cough* Anyway, what do you want on your tacos? You can get whatever you want. Guacamole, salsa, lettuce, onions...
Me: I'd just like some cilantro and lime juice. Can they do that?
Employee: [rolling eyes] Uh, yeah. I'm pretty sure they can swing that.
Me: Don't laugh at me! I habla'ed and everything!
So anyway, about 20 minutes later he came back bearing the most glorious food ever. I scarfed those tacos down, snorting and grunting the entire time. After I was finished I went outside and smoked a cigarette. They were that good.
A couple months later this same employee said that he was going back to get more tacos and would I like any. I almost broke my ankle sprinting to my purse to get him the money. The second experience was every bit as beautiful as the first. I asked the employee where, oh where, were these maestros of the taco located? He hesitated, pointed over his shoulder, and said that they were "that way." That kind of vague crap simply would not do. I pressed for more information.
Me: Do they have a restaurant?
Employee: Uh, no. I don't think you could call it that.
Me: Well then where do you go to get the food?
Employee: They have a truck... kinda.
Me: Oh! Like a mobile taco stand?
Employee: If you want to call it that.
Me: So it's like a little trailer or something?
Employee: No, it's more like a van.
Me: Oh! So kind of like an ice cream truck that they sell tacos out of?
Employee: Uh... it's more like out of the back of their van.
Me: Huh. Ok. Well, where are they?
Employee: It might not be a good idea to say.
Me: What? I'd be one of their best customers! How is that not a good thing?
Employee: [blinks]
Me: [finally catching the hint] Oh, I see. Are they trying to keep a low profile?
Employee: Yeah, you could say that. They're not supposed to be here.
Me: Ah, ok. Well I don't give a crap what their legal status is, I just want to know where I can go to get more of those tacos. These things are like crack to me.
Employee: They stay down by the river in a van. They sell tacos to make some money.
Me: Down by the river? Huh. Really? There's not much down there other than a... uh, park.
Employee: Yeah. They don't have anywhere to go.
Me: Damn... that sounds pretty rough. I hope they can make it. [Then, unable to resist, because I am a total jackass sometimes] So they're LIVING IN A VAN DOWN BY THE RIVER?!?!?!
The taco-dealing employee now works the overnight shift, so I only see him as he's leaving work and I'm arriving. I still don't know exactly where these taco vendors are, and while I hope that their fortunes have changed and permitted them to move out of the VAN DOWN BY THE RIVER, I'm still disturbed that I have no idea as to their whereabouts. Their food was that good. And I wouldn't be surprised if one of these days I got a craving and ended up getting arrested for wandering around the riverbank shouting about where the bitches were who make the awesome tacos.
2 Comments:
If you find out which van on the river has the best tacos, call me, I will go with you and snarf one down as moral support....
If I find out where the TacoMeisters are I'll definitely let you know. We can meet down by the river. You'll know me, because I'll be the person with her ankles sticking out of the back of a van while she tries to snarf everything inside.
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