Tuesday, March 28, 2006

The Whore on 36th Street

Last night I went on a journey to the Taco Bell on 36th Street/8th Avenue, the closest TB to the center of Midtown.

This was my first New York TB in 2006, and how I missed his taste, his scent, and his firm but gentle touch. I ordered what I normally order: three regular crunchy tacos and a pepsi. (I would have ordered a potato-side, but this was a TB Express, and my thoughts on potato-sides and TB Expresses will be saved for future posts.) Simply delicious. Taco Bell made me feel young again.

But this was not a perfect visit. For Taco Bell on 36th street was not alone with me last night. Nor is this TB alone any night. Or any day. And that, my friends, is because this TB lives with a whore. An old, dirty hag, whose best years were back when Mexican food didn't exist and when Mexicans were played by Charlton Heston.

Unless you've seen with your own two eyes the depths to which Taco Bell has sunk in New York, you'll be shocked and disgusted when you see this image:
















WHAT THE FUCK IS TACO BELL DOING WITH DUNKIN' DONUTS!?! I have reservations about TB/PizzaHut pairings--and I love PizzaHut--but fucking Dunkin's Donuts! Give me a break. I had to sit at a maroon table next to the powdered donuts display, dabbing my face with white coffee napkins as I chowed on my tacos. It's like taking communion at a shit factory.

I've been to this TB at least 15 times in the past two years. And I know I shouldn't keep coming back. He's demeaning himself, and I'm only encouraging it. (I mean, who knows what kind of diseases that place has?) But I can't just abandon him, no matter how many of you black-and-white Taco Bell-purists out there demand it. I'll admit Taco Bell has made some horrible mistakes--this is just one of them--but he's confused and scared and lonely. He's making bad decisions. And its because he doesn't have a good home here in New York.

Which is exactly why we need to UNITE! Get behind me! Let's get a real home for Taco Bell in Midtown. Not just for my sake. But for his.

3 comments:

sloppy nachos said...

A little hysterical, TB Champ. I once spilled a Coolatta on a Crunch-Wrap Supreme and, lo-and-behold, I unwrapped the outermost layer of the C-W S to find a perfectly satisfactory and semi-dry tostada/burrito-innard conglomerate. I wasn't upset, hustled off to 42nd street, and caught the second half of Momma Mia in its entirety.

Anonymous said...

But what about the Taco Bell on 2nd b/w 50th and 51st?

The Angry New Yorker said...

TB Champ, I can't agree more. I, too, had the unfortunate experience of trekking down to the local 36th St/8th Ave Taco Bell on my lunch hour only to have my tortilla-wrapped euphoria immediately turn to repulsion when I witnessed the atrocity of a Taco Bell sharing the same space as a Dunkin' Donuts. Abomination is an understatement. However, even more disturbing was the fact I could not order my much-coveted Mexican Pizza because clearly the proprietor of said establishment added on the Taco Bell Express as more of an afterthought than an eatery. Sacrilege! And who decided on the Express menu items, hmmm? You heartless bastard. Deciding between the delicious Taco Bell menu items is like deciding which of your kids you’ll save if your house catches on fire. You only do it IF YOU MUST. Put the Dunkin’ Donuts back in Penn Station where it belongs. The sweet scent of taco meat and sour cream should never mingle with the breakfast stench of coffee and crullers.

But I can’t stop. I mean, I know it’s wrong, but the minute I get the hankering for nacho cheese and ground beef I’m out of the elevator and heading uptown before I even realize what I’m doing. Some days I even tell myself I’m just going to get lunch at the neighboring 8th Ave White Castle, but as soon as I near my destination and the crunchy taco aroma permeates my nostrils and tingles the olfactory sense I suddenly find myself gripping the door handle of the wretched conjoined twin that is the D&D/TBXpress. Against my better judgment, I walk inside.

So it is with my full unwavering support that I join “the cause”. Count me as another snowflake… or shred of taco cheese or whatever it is that will cause the avalanche and spill into Mr. David C. Novak’s lap and make him open the doors to salvation and build us a damn full-service, un-conjoined, non-mutant Taco Bell right smack dab in Midtown. Viva la Taco Bell Revolucion!

I’m so worked up now that I am going to lunch. And you bet your ass you know where I’m going. Who's coming with me? Sheeeiiitttt.