PSA: The Worst Burrito in the World

This story is completely true, friends.

The sun was beginning to sink below the trees, and I was following I-70 West toward Ohio. Despite the significant lunch Stephanie and I had in Philadelphia, my stomach was hollow, and it had begun to growl... then snarl.

I had to eat.

Now, I enjoy adventure as much as anyone else. And the only thing I enjoy more than adventure is a burrito. When I'm in Greensboro, I'm a regular at Moe's, but when I'm abroad I like to sample burritos from across state lines. Foreign burritos. I drove past the Taco Bell exits. No Qdoba for me. Night fell, and my appetite for adventure grew alongside my craving for a bean burrito.

One sign promised good eatin' at Taco Joe's--one mile ahead. I'd never heard of Taco Joe's, so I took the exit. And that's where the story takes a turn for the worse.

I wasn't thinking. I should have remembered 1) West Virginia is not exactly world famous for its burritos and 2) it's not really a restaurant if it is inside of a gas station and convenience store. Still, I nestled my car between a couple of pick-up trucks and pushed through the double doors.

The girl behind the counter didn't stop texting until I'd been standing in front of her for a full minute. She wore too much blue eyeshadow. I asked her what they put in their bean burritos. She said, "Beans... and lettuce... I don't know. Tomatoes." All of that for a dollar twenty-nine.


And this is how a girl wearing too much blue eyeshadow prepares one of these Taco Joe specialties:


--Pour water over dried-out refried beans. Use ice cream scoop to carve out some beans and then smack them against the tortilla. Let the beans stand proudly as they are--a delicious mound.


--Throw some cheese on that mound. Throw some onions on that mound. NOTE: No tomatoes or lettuce made their way into the mix. Roll it all up. Stuff it in a paper bag.


And I was foolish enough to eat half of that so-called burrito as I pulled back onto I-70 with Ludacris blasting. I thought I was just that hungry until I bit into a mine of raw onions and had to call it quits. That Taco Joe masterpiece became my traveling companion for the next two hours.

So, what's the moral of the story? You bet: Freeze Moe's burritos and defrost them when it's time to travel across Pennsylvania.