Tuesday, July 13, 2004
posted by Mary |
7/13/2004 05:04:00 PM
Andrew and I swung by Taco Bell for dinner this evening, seeking something quick, cheap and relatively non-greasy. Andrew is a big fan of the "Fresco-style" Chicken Soft Tacos and we pulled up to the drive-through box and I placed an order for four of them. The responded back "Okay, that was five Chicken Taco Rancheros..do you wanna drink or any sides?"
"Uh.." (I look at Andrew)..."What is she talking about, Racheros? What the hell is that?"
Andrew leans over and yells into the order box "NOT RANCHERO! WE WANT FOUR CHICKEN SOFT TACOS, FRESCO-STYLE! FREEEEESSSCCCOOOO!"
Holy crap. Those of you that know my husband know that is a mild-mannered man, the type that if a server in a restaurant gives him the wrong dish he will just shrug and say "This looks okay, I'll just eat this" instead of sending it back. He is never one to get upset over such thing but the Ranchero Taco Situation seemed to inscence him.
The voice on the order box said "Okay, whatever...that's $6.41. Please pull around."
We wait in line and Andrew passionately explains the difference between "Fresco-style" (which I feel ridiculous saying) and "Ranchero." "We trying to order the HEALTHY tacos...not some crap with cheese and Ranch dressing glopped all over it!!!!"
We pull up to the window and I hand over our money. Andrew leans over me again and asks again, "These are FRESCO-STYLE, right? Not RANCHERO?" (By now I'm starting to feel a little awkward and have started slinking down in the seat.)
The Taco Bell worker hands us our bag with a shrug, saying, "They all pretty much come out the same way." She smiles encouragingly at us and tells us to have a nice night.
As soon as the little levered window closes shut Andrew explodes with, "THEY ALL PRETTY MUCH TURN OUT THE SAME WAY? I BET THESE TACOS ARE FREAKING RANCHEROS!"
We park, open up a taco and sure enough, the tell-tale cheese and ranch dressing glistens in the overhead light. Andrew sighs and says "that's it, I'm going in."
I stayed, cowering in the car, hoping to God that someone will just put some freaking pico de gallo on the stupid tacos so we could call it a night. I deeply regret all the times I teased Andrew for his mild-manneredness.
A few minutes later Andrew returned to the car, carrying the much-hyped FRESCO-STYLE tacos. We drove home. We ate dinner.
The tacos weren't bad.