I’m a big fan of breakfast burritos. Back in the 90s, I used to live near Higuera street in SLO (San Luis Obispo), and I hardly ever drove anywhere being that close to downtown. I’d walk to work at Cheap Thrills Music, and one Monday morning, I swung by Linnaea’s Coffee shop on Garden St for a breakfast burrito. As I strolled down Higuera street eating my burrito, I spotted a girl walking towards me. Trying to be smooth, I hit her with a casual “Hey” and a head nod. To my surprise, she looked absolutely horrified, and I couldn’t figure out why. Anyway, I shrugged it off and carried on with my delicious breakfast burrito on my way to work.
When I got to Cheap Thrills, my coworker gave me the same horrified look and asked me what happened to me. Confused, I looked down and realized that I had sour cream (a lot of it) all over me – from the top of my hoodie, down to my pants, and even on my shoes. It was a complete mess, courtesy of that burrito. I was part shocked and part amused because the girl’s earlier reaction finally made sense. After cleaning up, I went on with my day.
It was a Monday and I used to DJ the 80s night at Tortilla Flats. After the club let out at 1:30am we would hang around out front and talk. That night, as I was recounting my morning mishap with friends, the girl from the encounter tapped me on the arm and revealed that she had been the one I ran into that morning. She froze up and didn’t know whether to tell me about the sour cream situation or to just keep walking. We all had a good laugh about it, and I figured that while it was a messy situation, it would make for a great story to tell for the rest of my life.