I placed what I thought was a pretty normal order at the taqueria. Two chile rellanos, two soft chicken tacos, two fajita tacos, six bean-and-cheese tacos and one iced tea, to go.
The kid behind the counter looked up from his notepad and asked, “Is anyone else with you?”
I could have explained that I was hungry, had a long drive across four states ahead of me and knew it would be a while before I ran into an excellent taco again.
But earlier in the day, I’d found a cactus man in the desert. I’d seen some weird shit in New Mexico and I didn’t feel like I needed to explain myself.
So I handed over the cash and replied, “No.”
I wonder if cactus man gets quizzed about his taco addiction?