Story 1 - Cheating Death and Flying Tacos

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First of all: White Sox win. YES! That made the night good. But let's backtrack to JD's first out-of-the-ordinary adventure of the night, shall we? For those unaware, Comiskey Park has a policy where people that don't hold 100-level tickets can't get into that level. That's the lower deck for those of you unfamiliar. When I arrived with my party of four, very little was available in the lower bowl. This was bad for Erin from Math. You see, she and a friend were meeting me at the game and I knew things would get messed up somehow.

Erin from Math and Friend were forced into getting upper deck tickets. Mark came to the rescue. I quickly took his and Laura's ticket and ran up to section 531 (from 101...quite the trek to make in such short time). I met up with Erin and Friend and gave them a ticket each and we got into the 100s safe. Sneaky, yes. Clever, like a fox.

The game itself was eventful in the fact that Joe Crede went yard and Mark Buehrle got his third win of the season, breaking a nine-decision losing streak. For once, the game took a backseat to what would follow.

After the game, Laura, Mark, Sister, and myself left. I am driving on 31st street, nearing the turn to get on I-90/94. The left lane was shielded, and as I'm driving in the right... screech, swerve, stupid woman darn near T-Boned us. She had to have missed the car by less than a foot, and here's the kicker (Get it...foot, kicker...HA!): She yelled out the window at me! She turns left, almost hits us... and it's my fault in her warped mind. I really couldn't muster up any anger, because I was confused as to why she yelled at me. So instead of getting out and punching her in the eye, I just told her she was stupid, gave her a one-finger salute and took off.

So I know what you're thinking. I did something mildly sneaky and avoided a car accident. Not really worth getting into, right? Well, boys and girls, it's time for the MAIN EVENT! JD vs. Pat the Jerk Taco Bell Manager!

We drop Laura off and make our way to the Taco Bell in Munster. I pull up, and here's the order: Mark gets 4 tacos, no lettuce. He had a buy 2, get 2 free card. I order 2 soft taco supremes and a medium Sierra Mist. Jessica wants a #3 meal, Pepsi, no meat because she's a hippy. So state all this, albeit not very fluently. The monkey on the other end reads back the order, but it's all wrong. I correct him on EVERY detail. Silence. After about 20 seconds, I say "What's my total?" and he says "$7.06." Cool, because I'm hungry.

I pull up, he hands me the goods... I check the bag. Jessica's food is all there. Mark seems to only have 2 of his tacos. I only have one taco. I don't have a drink. There are two extra tacos that nobody ordered. This order took a wrong turn somewhere. So after sorting through the mess, I look up at the window and the guy comes back over. I begin to point out to him the error, pointing out what was wrong (and reading directly from the receipt). This is when Pat the Manager sticks his head through the window asking what's wrong. Again, I tell him and he CORRECTS ME. He says I was the one who messed up. I look at Mark and he returns the "What is this guy on?" look. He says "We had three people working on your order, man." I return the two miscellaneous tacos so Mark can get what he actually ordered. I start to tell him how I didn't get half of what I or-SLAM! Pat slams those drive thru windows on me.

Pat comes back and hands me the new tacos. I start to tell him AGAIN about how I didn't get my foo-SLAM! You know in the cartoons when someone gets mad and they show their face turn red and the horn blows and smoke comes out of their ears? I imagine I looked something like that. I open my door, lean and BANG the window (once, hard, but not too hard). The manager comes over and opens it. I yell about how that is just not cool, dude. Pat the Dorkimus Maximus threatens to call the cops. Being the hardcore, fearless rebel that I am... I throw my taco at him. Yes, like mother, like son I suppose. It was actually a great visual. The doors on the window were rapidly closing as the taco flies through the opening at the last second. That's good stuff.

So I pull out, hungry, upset, and ready to dial 1-800-TACO-BELL...That's right, I'm not done with Pat. After a short wait on hold, I talk to a nice lady and report this incident. I was considering a rematch with Pat tonight, but I decided it would be best to wait. He doesn't want anymore of this, that's for damn sure.

I'm still hungry, but I wonder what the people behind me in the drive thru thought. I suppose if Pat gave them lip like he gave me lip, they'd know.

Stupid Pat. Stupid woman driver. Mark is still a genius. I hope I don't have to find a new Taco Bell to go to.