The Saddest Taco Day Ever

Did you know that yesterday was National Taco Day? I found out this piece of information at approximately 5:30 or so yesterday and was immediately determined to celebrate Taco Day.

I didn’t get out of the office until about an hour after that. On my way to the subway I thought about going to Chipotle, but decided it would be better to make a taco myself. That’s what National Taco Day is really about, I told myself. I then missed the transfer to the S at Times Square and had to walk back from 50th street, barely making the 7:24 train at Grand Central. Between that and heavy traffic, (Hey lady driving the large SUV through the breakdown lane while I was trying to get into the exit lane: Fuck you!) it was about 9:30 by the time I got to the grocery store to buy Old El Paso taco shells and ground turkey (I decided to go the healthier route). Somewhere in there (during the traffic I think) I had a weak moment and thought about just getting Taco Bell.

I preheated the oven for the shells, spiced up and started cooking the ground turkey, and then put the shells in the oven. I thought I was well on my way to taco bliss, but I was wrong. After the taco shells were ready I opened my fridge to discover that I was out of lettuce, salsa, and the tomato in my fridge had a large, greenish moldy spot. On top of all that, the only hot sauce I had was Sriracha and the only cheese asiago. Don’t get me wrong: I love Sriracha, (it’s probably my favorite hot sauce) but on a taco it’s just…wrong. It was almost 10:30 and I was incredibly hungry, and far too tired to go back to the store for the proper toppings. So I added some bits of onion, sprinkled my asiago cheese, and squirted on some Sriracha. I ate the worst tacos ever, alone, longing for lettuce, salsa, and Cholula or Tabasco; wishing I had just gone to Chipotle while I had the chance; my attempt at celebrating National Taco Day a complete failure.

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