Week 6: Hit By The Bus

Week 6: Hit By The Bus

My hips are bruised because my size zero jeans with absolutely no stretch are now way too tight. They may fit after 15 minutes of pulling, but just because they button doesn’t mean they’re comfortable. The lack of oxygen and black and blue patterns across my hips that have formed over the past couple of days are proof these things are dangerous. Although the thrill of entering adulthood and becoming a 1 or 2 is intriguing, the financial hurdle of replacing my entire closet is not. And then you have to wonder, does it start this way? A few pounds here, a few pounds there, and then you are married with children and three times your original size? It’s not happening- not today. Today’s brunch adventure begins with a run. I’m sorry babe but I know you invested in me because I’m fun size, not because you saw domestic potential. I’m doing this for us.

Ryan’s willingness to join me on this “workout before brunch” gets me thinking. Does he personally feel the same way about himself? Or is he noticing that his girlfriend, aside from the white skin, is beginning to look like Missy Elliot? Maybe he thinks his participation will drive me to work harder. We go our separate ways–I go to the gym and he goes for a run outside. When I get there I hop on the treadmill and decide I’m going to go for a quick 3 mile run, and that is all. In my opinion, that’s enough effort on a Sunday morning and my love for Mexican is undefeatable anyway. It would probably take a half-marathon to eradicate all the calories I’m about to inhale at Taco Bus. Yes, we are going to the legendary Taco Bus. My ipod dies just one mile in, and I immediately convince myself that it’s a sign to get on this bus faster. Two miles, a few sit-ups, done.

No need for a shower and I’ll withhold our reasoning. I’m excited for what’s to come. Mexican is one of my favorite choices and rumor has it the Taco Bus is unfreakinbelievable. The Taco Bus is no longer mobile; it is permanently parked on Hillsborough/Nebraska and surrounded by tables. As we pull up I start taking pictures like a tourist. I love it here. What a neat atmosphere.

We wanted to try EVERYTHING so we ordered a seafood salsa, fish tacos, an “authentic” pork taco, a pork tamale, and a steak burrito. The seafood salsa came out first and I was starving so I dove right in. I instantly realized I was having an issue with the texture. The fact that there are chewy tentacle surprises hiding in my salsa is throwing me off. I’m used to finding an occasional tomato or two and I’m not sure that I like this. The flavor is great, but errrr, another surprise and this time I have no idea what it is. I’m gonna stop eating this for a bit.

My pork filled tamale came out shortly after. It was wrapped in something I had never seen before. Possibly a corn husk. I broke it open and started violating its insides. I had absolutely no idea what I was eating but I knew it was incredible. Something in it had some strange pastina texture and I was debating whether or not it was appropriate to lick the husk clean in public. More food arrived and I chose to control myself.

This was the beginning to the end of all enjoyment. Ryan’s order put me over the edge. I had survived the unpleasant texture issues associated with our salsa but Ryan’s adventurous “authentic” pork taco had me ready to hurl. Intrigued by a taco containing “pork cracklings” on the menu, Ryan had ordered it expecting some crunchy strips in his taco. SURPRISE!!! Ryan’s taco contained actual pig skin strips that had been boiled, and buried throughout his taco like a bunch of soggy band aids. The mere sight of this was making me nauseous. So nauseous that I was unable to enjoy my fish taco and then unable to enjoy my steak burrito. I kept thinking that I was going to accidently uncover a band aid in my meal. The steak burrito was a lost cause anyway due to the fact that they failed to melt the cheese. Ryan informed me that his stomach was turning as he took each bite. I still have absolutely no idea why he continued to eat it.

As I looked around at the eclectic crowd: firefighters, EMTs, hood rats in velour jumpsuits, an overly trendy family, a man with a spider web tattooed on his forehead, some real Mexicans, etc, I began to wonder if I should warn them of this “pork” taco. I think I’ll pass; something tells me they should suffer too.

So, from Hero to Zero, the Taco Bus went… What started out as an amazing morning in an amazing environment turned into an all-day lasting queasiness and the inability to get off the couch. I even tried napping the experience away and failed. I would like to believe Ryan in that we just “ordered wrong” but I’m not sure I can stomach another Taco Bus meal. If he wants to make the trip again, I’ll simply go along for the ride and tell that poor lady that an adult in a velour sweat suit is a sin.

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