(Credit: Mark Gross)
I listened some more. "You ask for a burrito, and they give you a baby." I'd never thought of it that way, but this kid was onto something. The burritos hefted onto the counter are as large as most infants. Perhaps, even more valuable, since I'd rather have a burrito than a child any day.
The line is long at Chipotle for good reason. The food here is awesome. As I wait, my mouth waters and my hands tremble. I peek over shoulders just to glimpse the food behind the counter. All I can hear is that one intoxicating chorus -- Chicken fajita burrito, chicken fajita burrito, chicken fajita burrito ...
I'm six people out. My stomach grumbles. My nostrils flare. Now only three people stand between me and nirvana. I'm tapping my foot and cracking my knuckles. I'm moving closer. Two people. One. Alas ...
"Chicken fafafa." I frighten the first employee of the burrito assembly line when I shout at him. I'm so excited I can no longer speak. "Chicken fafafa." No. This can't be happening. Get it together. Calm down. Speak, damn you. You'll never get a burrito acting like a mad man. Speak! "Chicken fajita burrito!"
I stare through the glass sneeze guard searching for my very own newborn. On the other side of the glass, a burrito technician heats my tortilla, spoons on cilantro and lime-flavored rice, green peppers, red onions, and some grilled chicken. Pushing the fledgling burrito down the line, the next burrito tech spoons on corn and tomato salsa. She adds sour cream, cheese and lettuce, and it takes everything she can muster to diaper the now swollen child. She puts it in a basket and passes it to the cashier. I'm ready to grab it off the counter, run to the nearest corner, snarl and growl like a lion protecting a cub. I barely maintain the last shreds of humanity it takes to hand over my debit card.
Only after the first bite, do my senses return to me. It is only now that I see the familiar corrugated walls of the industrial warehouse interior and hear the alternative rock and blues playing in the dining room. I smile at the pound-and-a-half of burrito in my hand. My meal, my baby.
Dish: The menu includes tacos, burritos and salads, and you can get a beer or margarita with your meal. In case you missed it, I ordered a chicken fajita burrito that must have weighed in over a pound. My suggestion, pile everything you can on top of it. Don't worry about getting your mouth around it. Honestly, you should be more embarrassed if you can.
Damage: Chicken fajita burrito: $5.50, small soda: $1.25, chips and salsa: $1.25
Total damage: $8 (came in under our $10 budget!)
Decision: This Mexican fast food joint is the closest you'll ever get to heaven. The fruit Eve ate in the Garden of Eden must have come from a fajita burrito tree. When Icarus flew off toward the sun he must have been chasing a Chipotle chariot. Fortunately, you just have to drive down to the Harbor.
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