There it is. They are in there. There are possibly some being made even right now. There is nobody in line. LUCK! The rolled tacos are going to happen, and happen SOON!
I am not alone, yet I do not make a good conversationalist. Doesn’t she know I can’t concentrate? Rolled tacos are on the way!
“You’re not listening,” she said.
All I could do was point at the window where the tacos came out.
“I know, it’s ok. You’re distracted. Rolled tacos happen.” She said it with a smile.
I smiled, grunted and went back to studying the menu.

She knows me. She knows me well. As an original Burritowinger she has no choice but to understand. For the past 10 years she’s heard me rant about rolled taco deliciousness. New to Southern California, now was her chance to finally judge for herself.

“Three rolled Guacamole!” (hers)
“Five rolled guacamole!” (mine)
I lunged at the pick up window, knocking some would be order-ers out of the way.
“Two hot sauces?” he asked.
“Uno mas, por favor,” I reply.
I would have taken a bucket if I could of.

The tray was shaking in my hands as I brought our feast to the table.
I didn’t expect her to like them. Past attempts to convert the uninitiated have failed. Too greasy, too much guacamole or the greatest fallacy of them all…
“Oh they’re just like flauta’s.”
I stared a look of death across dripping lakes of hot sauce. She quickly realized her mistake.
“I mean, but better!” Another smile, some laughter and she was forgiven… knowing not how close she came to…well… let’s just see how she handles the next stop. Temporary reprieve, we’ll call it.
“It’s the right kind of cheese,” I mumbled.

“Why would you think I wouldn’t like these?” she asked. “They’re fried! Of course they are good!”
What was this? A saddened look of disbelief across her face? I should have known, it seemed to say. Perhaps I should have, but presently I was wondering if she was gonna eat that third rolled taco…

Filled up with deliciousness, it was time to hit some thrift stores. My original Burritowinger companion – whom wishes to remain nameless – wanted to be shown around town. Let’s call her… “Taco”…no, no… too confusing. How about…”Torta”. Nah, still too confusing…. Oh hell, it doesn’t matter too much. Her name shall be “Oaxaca-taca”, even though Oaxaca, Mexico has little to do with this style of food, and I seriously doubt a “taca” is a female taco, but what the hell, Oaxaca Taca it is.

So, Miss Taca and I hopped in her stir-fry mobile and headed towards downtown. After forgetting that the record store that used to be around the corner was no longer around the corner, I remembered that there was a big thrift store down the hill. Hearing the worry crawl into my voice as I gave her directions, she told me not to; there was to be no clothes shopping today. Lady Oaxaca knows me so well. I wonder how she was going to react to the torta she still needed to have.

Thrifting in large cities is almost impossible nowadays. Seemingly filled with garbage from the 90’s, I don’t see how can one expect to find anything worthwhile. Yet, Oaxaca did. She found exactly what she was looking for; one of those combo record/cd/tape player consoles that look old timey. Forty bucks. Some guy walks by and says you can get ‘em new at Target for 60, but I say fugget. You’re here, it’s still new, and it’s forty bucks.
“You know it’s a toy though, right?”
“Yeah, of course. But fugget.”
Miss Oaxaca Taca knows her stuff. Still, I planned to dazzle her with La Jolla just to make sure she enjoyed her upcoming torta experience. My plan was to blind her with beauty, and thus guaranteeing delicious torta success. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was still a plan.

“…and that’s where we used to drink coffee at Denny’s, but now it’s a gas station… and there is where we used to sneak in for a make out spot….and oh, there’s another one… and… ok, take a right! And that’s where my grandparents would always stay…and those houses have always been abandoned… I dunno why – they must be crazy… see the mermaid up there….and …”

“Do we have to get out of the car? It smells.”
“Uh, yeah. I guess it does. Ok, we’ll get out for a little while. It’s one the most beautiful places along the coast. You have to get out of the car.”
I guess I talked so much about that torta, she couldn’t wait.

“Wow, you’re right. This is beautiful.”
“Ok, you seen it – let’s go.”
Dammit, all that shopping and natural beauty made me hungry.

To be continued… at Don Carlos!