Never Trust a Californian Taco Truck

For most people, a taco can be a simple, messy, delicious treat after a long hard day's work. However, for me, a taco will always be more than that. Every time I take a bite of a hard shell taco, I am reminded of one fateful day in the summer of 2017. Not only did this day ruin my vacation, but it would lead to my lifelong distrust of Taco Trucks.

It all started on the seemingly endless car ride to visit my cousins in Santa Barbara, California. We were a little more than an hour out when we decided to stop and eat. We took the first exit off the highway we could find. There were a few big restaurant chains like In-and-Out Burger and McDonalds, but there were a lot of small diners and restaurants. I really wish we had decided to stop here and try one of the local diners, but nope. My family decided to keep driving and see what else we could find. It wasn’t long before we spotted something that peaked our interest: The Taco Truck.

“Mom, can we get tacos!” Jason shouted so suddenly that it nearly paralyzed me with fear.

“I could go for some tacos,” Nathan said almost asleep again.

“Is anyone against tacos?” My father asked. This was the point where I could have simply said “Nah, I’m not feeling it today,” and I would have avoided my terrible fate. Instead, I just complied with my family’s decision and started thinking about what taco to order.

So, I ordered the lengua taco. Later that day I would learn that “lengua” means “cow tongue”. It may have a disturbing connotation, but it actually tasted pretty good. However, from the moment we left the taco truck, I knew that something was not right. Our long journey was almost over as we neared Santa Barbara. It was absolutely beautiful. The city was built into the mountain overlooking the West Coast, but something else plagued my thoughts; “Why does my stomach feel weird?” I summed it up to car sickness and figured that I would feel better when we finished our expedition. It wasn't long after that I realized that I was plagued with food poisoning and not car sickness.

The last time I had food poisoning, it lasted through the night and then I returned back to normal. I assumed this one would be the same. I hoped that this would be the same because our flight back home left tomorrow and it wasn’t exactly the shortest flight.

I didn’t get much sleep that night. The pain had only grown worse but I was determined to fight through it until I got home. I started going pale with all the walking through the airport. Right before boarding the flight is about when the shivers started. These were uncontrollable shivers. Ones that were not because of cold weather. In fact, I was very warm and had plenty of blankets and jackets. I must have scared everyone of the plane. I received many weird looks from strangers around the plane, but I didn’t care or take much time to notice. The only thing on my mind was trying to survive the trip home.

I continued to be in this state on and off for the six hour flight. No medicine or form of distraction could take my mind off the pain I was feeling. Nearing the end of the six hour flight, I started to feel better. I stopped quivering so much and the cramps were lessening.

It took days for my body to recover completely and it took months before I could even smell the scent of taco without feeling terrible inside. Since that day, I have never eaten from a taco truck and still remember the pain I felt each time I eat a taco.