Last night in Lincoln, more craziness. $2 steins of beer, sitting outside in the beer garden down in the Haymarket, eating free wings and bacon fries.
After sitting around for a few hours, Donovan and I decided to go check out this place with quarter tacos. I was skeptical, because I’d heard there was a band playing there — which means a cover charge, which makes 25 cent tacos way more expensive. But we went to check it out anyway.
As we got up close to the place, two gigantic charter buses were parked outside with Lake County Florida plates. Leesburg, where my Grandparents used to live. Bizarre, because that place was a tiny little village that seemingly had a median population age of somewhere between “old” and “geezer”. Not the type of city that would produce a college band. Hmm. But the more pertinent detail was that where there’s tour buses, there’s a steep cover.
Fifteen damn dollars! We turned right around and left. There were T-shirts for the band in boxes sitting outside the bus — with no one guarding them — so Donovan wanted to steal the whole box. “You want a box of shirts?” he said. I was pretty sure the huge roadie guy for Billy Idol from The Wedding Singer, the one in the motorcycle jacket who beats up whats-his-name with the “Nobody talks to Billy Idol that way” line, was waiting for Donovan to pick up the box and then beat him up. So I talked him out of it.
But we still wanted tacos. There had to be a T-Bell, or a TJ’s, or even an Amigos somewhere close. Unfortunately, neither me or Donovan are terribly familiar with Lincoln once you get outside of the Haymarket/Downtown area around campus. So we did not find tacos, although it wasn’t for a lack of trying. We drove around for about 20 minutes looking for somewhere — ANYWHERE — to get a taco at 11:30. Nothing. Unbelievable. Oh, sure, there was McDonalds, and BK, and Wendy’s, and Arby’s, and Subway, and Quiznos, and some pizza places with names I couldn’t pronounce, but NO TACOS!
There was seemingly no where to get a taco in Lincoln. So we just took off for Omaha, our taco hunger pangs unquenched. And when we got home, I made my own damn tacos on the stove. Cooked the meat in a frying pan, heated the shells, melted the cheese, and tacos were enjoyed just before 1am. You bet.