Cheap food, cheap
This will be my last regular post at Uptake, as I need to find a way to put all of my life commitments together in a way that does not exceed 20 hours a day. (Selfish of me, I know, but I do protect my 4 hours of sleep.) It’s rather like throwing your favorite stuffed animal overboard in a storm: You’re not sure exactly why you are doing it but surely a sacrifice that large should have a positive impact.
I’ve always known what I’d write about in this situation: Taco Bell. Hey, before you click away, some of my best times in life have happened in a Taco Bell, and many of them before they embarked on that colorful remodeling project.
My story should start in the mid-’80s when my husband and I graduated college with no jobs, in debt to our eyeballs and hungry. However cheap those tacos, still you had to drag me in there because sometimes there are worse fates than starving. But my best friend’s son, Kevin, began to grow up and he adored the place. He also liked Ryan’s, which was just as bad and twice as expensive, so Taco Hell became the lesser evil.
Then the little booger took it in his head to collect taco wrappers from all 50 states, which meant we began thinking outside the bun everywhere. I have photos of him rushing out joyously in New Mexico. We waited nearly 40 minutes for the Idaho wrapper we snagged on his high school senior trip, for reasons we are still guessing at today. Kevin is also quick to tell you that one cost the most, too. We acquired the precious paper in Washington State around 1 am as we were driving out of SEATAC, my husband so exhausted that when the disembodied voice asked what he wanted, he replied, “a beef and tater burrito.”
Getting rowdy at Taco Bell
Apparently they don’t speak bastardized Southern in Seattle. Kevin still uses that line as the butt of many jokes.
When my husband and Kevin decided to have a farting contest, my boy went to White Castle. Kevin went to Taco Bell. He applied for jobs there. As a senior in college, he’s done marketing projects about Taco Bell. We eat there before game days with him, and sometimes on our own simply because we’re low on cash and … well, we miss him.
So this past Sunday, my brother needed me to take the niece and nephew out for lunch while he attended a meeting at church. It was the perfect scene for a Five Buck Box and some kiddie bag meals at Taco Bell. While we were waiting on those delicious cinnamon twists and so-so tacos, I casually blew my straw wrapper into my nephew’s ear and the war was on. That war is always on among Sturgeons; my grandfather at the age of 96 would blow his straw wrapper at you at the country club. After he passed, we kept it up at first in honor of him, but now more because it bugs the kids that they can’t aim it as well as we adults.
I was perched on my too-high chair surrounded by food, laughter, and memories, and I knew exactly why I’m giving up this blog: Because making time for moments like these is worth it.
Oh, and Kevin, you might want to get a taco next time you’re traveling through Georgia. We , uh, kinda told a small lie in the interest of getting to Florida on that Spring Break. The Taco Bell was actually on the Tennessee side of the street.
Photos: Julie Sturgeon
