The most offensive, appalling, contemptible, sickening, dreadful (and so on) event took place in my life the other week. It made me so furious that I feel like I need to write about it.
Warning: this is not for those of you with weak constitutions.
So the other night I had hankering for Chipotle, this is nothing new I have hankering about 6 times a day. I rolled up in the Chipotle parking lot, pockets fat with some serious cash, completely famished considering I hadn’t eaten in at least 2 hours. I open the door and as soon as the smell of cilantro and sautéed veggies hits my nose, a single tear was shed. This was a tear not of sadness, but of complete and utter joy.
The line was moderately long but there is no line long enough to hold me back from true love. As I waited, I read a sign on the wall nearby that read: “due to shortages we will only be serving conventionally raised beef.” WELL DAMN I CAN’T EAT THIS PEASANT SLOP! So I turned around and left.
HAHA just kidding. I don’t care how my cows were killed really, as long as they are delicious.
Anyway, after a few minutes I finally reached the front of line, purely elated.
“bowl or burrito?”
I was feeling rambunctious and quite frankly a little cocky and decided to go with a burrito. Next came the rice… I went with white (felt a little racist), then of course the fajita veggies because beans are little sacks of evil.
Here’s where it gets crazy. I normally skip the meat in order to get the guac for free because guac is more important to me than any human being or any object or anything ever. But like I said, I was feeling cocky so I went with the chicken. Next I got corn salsa, cheese and finally the holy grail: guacamole.
This is where my night took a turn for the worst.
See, I really hate when you get a burrito but one bite is just rice or just chicken. No, no, I am an equal opportunity burrito eater so I politely asked the Chipotle servant to please mix my burrito. In that moment I swear smoke came out of her ears and I think she may have pooped herself a little bit, she was so filled with rage. She looked at me. Then behind me. Then back at me.
“I don’t think so, we are just really busy right now”
OKAY PAUSE BITCH.
THERE ARE ABOUT TEN PEOPLE IN THIS LINE. THAT’S IT. IT TAKES MAYBE 10 SECONDS TO GRAB A FORK AND MIX THE INGREDIENTS. DO YOU EXPECT ME TO GO HOME AND UNWRAP THIS BURRITO TO DO IT MYSELF? MY TAX DOLLARS (idk) DO NOT PAY FOR YOU TO DENY ME MY FIRST AMMENDMANT RIGHTS OK.
The other thing you should know was that the woman in front of me in line had like 6 burritos she was paying for at the time SO THE LINE WASN’T MOVING ANYWAY.
After very long, tense sustained eye contact I came very close to reaching my arm over the glass to mix the burrito myself as well as give her a cold hard slap (if this were the ghetto I would have perhaps “pistol-whipped” her, if you will). Finally, after probably two minutes of tension she was finally defeated and mixed my burrito for me.
This was the best burrito I had ever had in my entire life. Victory is always sweetest when you have to work for it, am I right?