In honor of this taco titan, below is an article I originally wrote my sophomore year in college in my weekly newspaper column. A couple of things to note: free refills were a new phenomenon at the time, I have not eaten at Taco Bell since I moved to San Diego (just feels weird when I’m this close to the actual Mexican border), and, despite many negative references, my local Taco Bell posted this article in the restaurant and provided me with many free menu items in return for the publicity.
Make a run for the border!
It has been said that admission of a problem is the first step towards recovery. I am not an alcoholic. Cigarettes are not my greatest desire. Chocolate, I can love it or leave – it does not matter. I am a Taco Bell addict, and I cannot control myself.
I do not remember the exact day my addiction began. But, sometime last year Taco Bell became my obsession. I started making a run for the border on a regular basis, every other night at least. I came to know the employees personally. The night manager and crew looked forward to my visits. They knew that I could not resist the smell of greasy ground beef frying in the back, while I took careful care deciding what menu items I craved that night.
Then spring quarter, something dreadful happened. I ordered a burrito supreme and was taken ill by a squirt of bad sour cream. My restaurant had failed me, so I quit Taco Bell in my hometown. Thoughts of that horrible night kept me away from the bistro where I had spent many evenings pigging out on taco after taco -- all for the low price of 49 cents each.
Fall quarter, I was determined to stay away. I traded Taco Bell in for Krispy Kreme. Instead of a Mexican pizza at 1am, I would devour a half dozen chocolate-covered doughnuts. The elderly woman at Krispy Kreme, who reminded me of someone’s grandmother, took the place of the Asian manager who used to greet me like we were the best of friends. I embarked on a taco withdrawal period.
Then it happened, one night I finally lost it. I felt like the lady in that Alert commercial who says, “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.” I was watching television and I found out not only did Taco Bell have a 49-cent taco, there was now a whole menu of 59-cent items. My head said, “No, don’t do it.” My heart sang, “Make a ruuunnn for the border!” So I did. Things have not been the same since.
Once again, I am a professional Taco Bell connoisseur. Friends dodge me at parties, worrying that they might end up at what they now call “Taco Hell.” The staff at the cholesterol capitol of our city has changed since last year, but I have become familiar with this crew as well.
One must know -- I do not eat at Taco Bell for lunch or dinner. That would be sacrilegious. Taco Bell is reserved for late night snacks. I use the word snack lightly. The phrase “feeding frenzy” would be better. A typical order consists of several tacos, a Mexican pizza, and a regular Pepsi. I try to teach the fine art of eating at Taco Bell to my friends, but time and time again they continue to order a large drink. I repeatedly tell them: “Taco Bell has FREE refills.” I will not leave the interior of the restaurant until I have had at least two refills. It’s part of the ritual.
One week, Taco Bell’s ice machine broke down. The problem disrupted my whole week – a fountain drink is not the same without ice. I told the manager on duty I wanted to complain to the head taco man. She brought me a sheet of paper, and I proceeded to viciously tear apart the man for not having the machine fixed sooner. I let him know that this dilemma disrupted many lives. (OK, I exaggerated. But, it did mess up mine.)
Taco Bell recently has been advertising their franchise constantly. They are taunting me, coaxing me to run to the border once more. I try to resist, but the temptation is too great. I begin thinking about the crispy taco shells, the gooey soft taco shells, the tangy sauce, the finely grated cheese, and who can forget the paste they call beans.
Some nights I find myself begging friends, neighbors and sometimes strangers to go with me to Taco Bell. I spend hours sitting at the booths studying, eating, and talking. I feel comfortable there.
I need help. Someone needs to start a Taco Bell Anonymous (TBA) for people like me. I often wonder if there is something in their secret meat sauce. Maybe my immune system is low, and I am more susceptible to the ingredients contained in their “100% pure ground beef.”
I’ve finally done it. I have publicly admitted my obsession. The next step is up to me again. Instead of a taco run, I should make an apple or orange run. Instead of three refills of Pepsi, I should drink another glass of milk in my room.
Maybe I’ll do that next year. See ya at the border!
But what about my No Taco Bell rule?
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