The Day My Burrito Almost Died.

It was a Monday. No, a Tuesday. I was hungry. My mouth was watering, as usual. I had a craving, nay, a desire. There was only one thing that would quench my hunger: CHIPOTLE.

This day was a burrito day (as opposed to a burrito bol day). My weapon of choice? A steak burrito with rice, pinto beans, hot & medium salsa, sour cream, lettuce, and as much cheese as humanly possible. Oh, the cheese. I went to my usual Chipotle location a la Willow Lawn. “A,” the manager, was unusually happy today. We made our exchanges, and I went to pay.

Money is tight right now, but that $6.35 + a cup for water (but I fill it with Diet Coke, sometimes. I’m not a crook.) was well worth it. My hunger and pining for “The Chip” was almost a life or death situation. Little did I know that my notion would soon be truer than I would have ever liked it to be.

I got my burrito “TO-GO” because I had a lot of work to do at home. I carried it out to my car, salivary glands still teeming. I got in my 2007 VW Rabbit, placed my beloved burrito ever-so-gently on the passenger’s seat, and started the car, anxious to dig in to my delicious treat. I left the parking lot, naive to the grave reality ahead of me. It’s 5:15, on a Tuesday, in Richmond, Virginia. I have to drive on Interstate 95. There will be traffic.

As I merged onto the highway, an acoustic Dave Matthews set blaring from my stereo, I believe it was “Grey Street” LIVE from Piedmont Park, I dreamt of what would be happening in 7.45 minutes. And dreading the subsequent work I would be completing thereafter.

SUDDENLY, it happened. The car in front of me decided, at the last minute, to cross over four lanes of traffic, AT 5:15 ON A TUESDAY, because the exit he wanted was on the right, and he, of course, was on the left. Oh, MY BAD, MISTER BMW. I FORGOT YOU OWNED THE ROAD! BY ALL MEANS, CUT US OFF. Oh, no sir, no need to thank us, it was OUR PLEASURE.

I had to think fast. My mind was racing. As my foot slammed the break to the floor I could think of nothing but the burrito sitting so sweetly on the passenger’s seat next to me. I did what was instinctual of any burrito lover, I “mom’ed” my burrito. As the car that so rudely cut me off exited to the right, and when I realized I was safe, I realized that my instinct, my arm, my “mom’ing,” saved $6.35+water/Diet Coke cup, and of course, my burrito. PHEW! What a relief!

I don’t think that if impact had occured that my airbag would have been enough. Yes, my motherly instincts saved my hunger.

6 minutes later I was home and eating my burrito.

And a burrito whose life has just been saved, tastes better than any other burrito I have ever had. Trust me. I would know.

All for now.