The transaction

Picture this…
it’s 5:00 PM. I’ve been slaving away all day in front of this computer… pushing pixels around until they just won’t push any more. It’s been several hours since the simple sandwich I called my lunch, my diet coke is running dangerously low and I’m looking forward to something that isn’t work.

I send my wife an instant message (yes, I know she’s just down the hall… shut up, and let me tell my story) asking what the plan was. She had left my office a few hours earlier with a goal to sort out our grocery list. When I was done with work, we would be responsible adults, and go do the shopping. …or at least that was how we chatted over a few hours earlier.

Eventually, we start talking over the plan again…

• Janey: i’m having trouble with dinners
• Janey: i’ve been thinking about it since i left your office
• Me: how about lamb, we’ve never had that.
• Me: are you looking for something interesting… or just to make a regular list?
• Janey: regular and interesting… i’m open
• Me: Dijon-Tarragon Cream Chicken – Allrecipes
• Me: Taco Pies – Allrecipes MMMMmmmmm
• Janey: LOL all recipes!
• Me: I’m hungry
• Janey: you’re all over the map!
• Janey: french and american/mexican
• Me: I’m feeling like nasty mexican food tonight.
• Janey: like not real mexican?
• Me: the really bad stuff with grease everywhere
• Me: like albertos
• Janey: hm…
• Janey: i could do albertos. You buying?
• Me: okay
• Janey: srsly?
• Me: yeah
• Janey: mk
• Me: now?

And so the plan was made. We put a very tired boy into his Orbit and rushed off to the location where I last visited an Albertos in Utah. Actually, because it had been so long since my last visit, I looked it up on Google Maps just to be sure. Yup, there it was, just where I remembered it.

So lets fast forward a bit. Past showing up at the mapped location and not finding the restaurant. Past calling my good friend Cody to help us get un-lost. Past pulling up at another mexican place with a very clearly labeled and advertised drive-through, only to look through the window and find the nook by the window was a little mexican food place accounting office. Past no fewer than 4 U turns while we scouted other mexican joints. And past going back to where we started, to the restaurant that looked kind of like an Albertos but wasn’t one, to order some nasty mexican food.

Some context

Now, I need to take break in the story here (shut up, it’s my story and I’ll take a break when I want to), to impart a bit of context that will help you understand my behavior in the latter part of the story.

There are some things in our world we do simply out of routine, almost out of habit. There are certain processes that just have a rhythm to them. A standard practice. A way of running that is familiar to everyone. We, as humans, are often like well oiled cogs in the machine of society. We know when to go and when to stop. We know how to form a queu. We know not to pee on the floor. We know how to hand my license and registration to the highway patrol officer in Barstow when he pulls me over for not having renewed my car registration in California since I was moving and thought I would get away with it. And of course, we know the basic components of the nasty mexican food place drive-through transaction. Just keep that last bit in mind.

The transaction

Ok… on with the story.

We stop at the big menu board, and have our usual dance of forward and reverse while Janey gripes that she can’t see the menu. When something almost identifiable as a greeting crackles over the speaker, I answer.

“Give us just a moment please, we’re not quite ready”

I really didn’t know if the voice on the speaker asked to take my order, or told me to go pound sand and salt up my ass. I didn’t need to. This transaction that I had entered into had a rhythm. A natural progression. I wasn’t about to let a little language barrier slow it down, so when offered my cue… I performed.

There was more steps to this phase of the transaction. I rattled off what we wanted, and he… talked back a bit. It’s really not important what he said, or if I understood. I knew that in whatever native tongue he was speaking, he was reading back the order that I had just given him.

We pull up to the window and a large man of the ethnic flavor one might, possibly wrongly, expect at such an establishment was waiting inside. Well, not so much waiting as typing out a text message on his cell phone. But he had the obligatory drive-through cahier headset on, so I knew he was the guy I was supposed to be talking to.

With an almost concerned (or constipated. I can’t be sure which) look in his face, he threw open the window, leaned out and barked.

“Fibseen bebnty fy!”

I admit I was taken aback. I spent five years living in Orange County working in a service/hospitality profession. I grew to master deciphering words of the english language through even the thickest accents. But this my friends, this was like nothing I have heard before.

I was cold and a little frightened, but it was my cue. It really all happened so fast. I think I did a double take back at Janey, and for the briefest of moments begged for help with my eyes. But I didn’t miss a beat. I nodded and handed my credit card through the window.

A short delay, and he handed a pen and receipt to me. Whew! No words needed. I knew what to do with this, and we could finish the transaction.

I handed him a signed copy, he handed me food, and I thought I was home free!

Then the large man speaking the strange version of whatever language he was speaking said something that we’re still not sure of. Janey thinks it had something to do with barbeque sauce, while I tend to believe was asking to be my godfather. I did ask him to repeat once, and he did. I shook my head and said thank you.

We drove away.

Epilogue

There is a little epilogue to this tale.

We returned home to eat the spoils of our adventure and found that the food this place produces is freakin awesome. The best nasty mexican food any guy could hope for. I had a double burrito plate that I loved.

My tale of woe begins later, when the burritos have a chance to tell my body just how they feel about their visit. I think they were angry because they rushed off rather quickly. After talking with Janey, I think hers were of the same mind. They really didn’t even take the time to settle in or try to make any friends. It was a really in-and-out sort of visit. I dunno, maybe they just had someplace to be.