Taco Bell has a new menu item...

I haven't had a craving for Taco Bell since I was 19 and drunk. (Sorry mom). Taco Bell would never be my whole meal of food choice. But, neither would Wendy's, and I wolfed down some chicken nuggets like it was my job in Dulles airport yesterday. The point of this being that people are forced to make choices they would not normally make in airports.

I'm going to hold onto that thought because if that isn't the case it means that a middle aged man wearing sweatpants and a Family Guy t-shirt (tucked into the sweatpants) normally orders the newest Taco Bell menu item. This new menu item may or may not exist, but, if it does I'm sure it's called "Satchel of Taco Bell". I'll explain.

On Wednesday I flew from Austin to Dallas and Dallas to Washington DC. The flight to DC was on a small jet, with 2 seats on either side of the aisle. My assigned seat was, naturally, next to the man described above. He weighed at least 300 pounds. His sweatpants where made of some sort of acrylic material and I could see his unshapen body shaking under them.

So, I sit down. I take out my book. I am limited to one half of my seat. We take off (on the second attempt mind you, something about at error message!!). As soon as we level out and I start to relax, it happens.

My seat mate takes out a large Taco Bell sack filled with Taco Bell menu items. He puts down his tray table and lays them out. Six taco supremes, two burritos, and a mexican pizza. I start to gag as soon as the smell hits my face. Now, because only 3 people read this blog you each know how transparent I can be when I don't like someone or something. You also know about my gag reflex. It is brutal. I'll let you each imagine me in this situation. I'm sure your imagination will do it better justice than my words.

The older man sitting across the aisle from me catches my eye and we both look at each other in disbelief of what is happening. We laugh together, to ourselves.

I'll spare you the intimate details of how long and how disgustingly this man ate his Taco Bell. Let's just say it took over an hour. Let's also just say that at one point a morsel of Grade D beef and a shred of lettuce fell on my pants. Both the flight attendant and the man across the aisle laughed. My seat mate says "Sorry" and a piece of crushed taco shell flies from his mouth and onto my shirt. I literally can't breathe.

Now, I should say, at no point was this man aware of my discomfort. He was too busy rocking out to Rascal Flatts and searching the now empty satchel for more Fire Sauce. He had no clue that what he was doing offends every single flying social norm, ever.

Approximately 56 minutes into the eating of the satchel full of Taco Bell, my seat mate begins to reach his limit. One taco to go. He's not going to make it. He offers the taco to me. The man across the aisle and his seat mate are laughing at me again. I decline.

It's over. Finally. The wrappers get wadded up, the crinkled, torn Fire Sauce packets disappear back into the satchel. The flight attendant takes the remains of my nightmare away. The man swills the last drops of his Diet Coke (hah!), slams his seat back, stretches, audibly burps (I gag), and falls asleep. Then, he begins to softly snore.

I settle into my book and Ipod and drown him out for the remainder of the flight.

So, I had to sit next to someone really annoying on a flight. That happens to people all the time, that's not remarkable. What is remarkable is that I didn't actually kill him. It is remarkable that I could laugh in the middle of total annoyance. It is remarkable that I was actually a little happy for this guy. I was happy that someone could enjoy food that much, live in their own world, and a little jealous that he knew about the "Satchel".

End!