Sometimes I get a craving for Del Taco and I can’t quite explain why. So I decided to walk down to the one on Lake and Union, close enough to my office to walk to. The whole journey down Colorado I’m thinking about how tired i am of being broke, not having enough cash to get an apartment down here, to eat at the Ruths Chris I pass by, to afford the Range Rover that pulls up at the valet… I stumble in to del taco and notice a guy sitting in the corner with shifty eyes. He’s mumbling to himself and I think, oh man there’s another freak. I get my 49 cent burritos and sit down to enjoy them.

Now freaks in this joint are part of the decor– that’s what you get for having cheap food on a major street down the road from the metro. But this guy was unusually freakish, continuing to talk to himself and stumble around, asking for water and then spilling it all over himself. I just wonder what this guy is on or is withdrawing from or how the hell he got here in the first place. I also felt like a jerk for even thinking that I am broke– sure I might not be as rich as others but I am also not as emotionally, mentally, physically and monetarily broke as this guy here.

He’s still outside right now as I’m writing this, casing the joint, waiting for some spare change to go back in and buy another $1.08 worth of pseudo-Mexican fare. I don’t know his story but sure as hell know that I don’t want to end up like him. Man. I’m not THAT broke.