I am a simple man with simple pleasures.
Now, I live across the street from the Fashion Centre at Pentagon City, a pathetic excuse for a mall in Northern Virginia where the nearest Taco Bell resides. (First of all: We’re in America. It’s Center, you turncoats.) But it’s the only mall in the DC area that’s accessible via Metro, and so people somehow find their way there. But I have an added bonus: the quickest way to my apartment from the Metro is actually through the mall. I have the luxury of walking by the food court everyday on my commute. And while I’m disciplined most days, every once in a while, my arteries enjoy some good old-fashioned atherosclerotic fare.
And so here I am, hankering for some taco goodness on my way to the food court when I am immediately met with the sights, sounds, and smells of hundreds and hundreds of hyper-obnoxious prepubescents. A school tour group. Great. Not only do they crowd the walkways, ogling merchandise that I’m pretty sure is also sold wherever they’re from, but they generally don’t follow the rule of mall-walking in metropolitan areas: Walk fast and move the heck out of the way of the people who actually live there. And of course, for some reason, these kids always choose to dine on the American staples in the food court: McDonalds, Popeye’s, and yes, Taco Bell. The line to my crunchy taco supremes must have been at least fifty people deep. And it wasn’t going anywhere. It was like a bread line, only there wasn’t any bread at the front, and the other people in the line were stupid kids.
So, long story short: I let the kids win. Dejected, I made my way back home, without my crunchy taco supremes.
Can’t a guy just get his four measly tacos without being bombarded by kids? I mean, come on. Seriously.