When eating at a taco truck, I am typically drunk and there are few demands that have to be met. One of those demands is that my food have no vegetables, the other is that the food is edible. When I recently ventured out to the Taco Truck at Venice and Centinela, I was in for a rude surprise.
I stumbled up to the window to place my order. When I inquired about the ingredients in the chicken quesadilla, I was told that there were no vegetables. Then, I asked about the carne asada taco, which I was told came with onions. I asked the lady for no onions, and to make it offensively clear, I also said, “no cebollas” (cebolla being the spanish word for onion).
When my food was ready, I headed home, opened up my polystyrene container and was greeted with a most shocking surprise. For some reason, the inhabitants of the taco truck had chosen to empty out some poor salad into my styrofoam. It was an unwise choice, as it surely could not be eaten. Unfortunately, it was not the unwisest of choices made by said inhabitants. As I unwrapped the foil that engulfed my taco, I discovered a multitude of onions. In anger, I only ate the quesadilla and left the taco on the floor of my cold room, thinking I would be more kind and patient when I awoke.
Some twelve hours later, I awoke from my slumber to find that those onions on my taco had not been some unfortunate nightmare, they were all too real. I set to work at removing the onions and then brought the taco to my toaster oven for some reheating. Once the onions were removed, the taco didn’t taste so bad, however, no more than an hour later, my stomach began to rumble into an intense pain. Was it because I had eaten a taco that had lain on my floor overnight? Impossible, I have eaten pizzas that have sat on the floor for many nights. My stomach is far too strong for that. It must have been the onions. They must have planted the seeds of my stomachache.
Onions are truly evil, and so is that taco truck for forcing their presence upon me.