I woke up Saturday morning around 9:30 eager to begin what was surely to be a great day. As One o’clock rolled around, so did my sister, Laure and we began our trek toward the Musical Mecca that is Selma, Texas to attend the Dave Matthews Concert. I decided to look the part and wear khakis and sandals (no socks) to the concert.

We arrived three hours later in the nearby, sleepy hollow of New Braunfels, whose economy is based primarily on the teeming mass of people that come to float down, bathe in, and deposit all kinds of a bodily fluids in the Guadalupe River, Ganges River style. After picking up Laure’s friend, Michael, we headed on to the Verizon Wireless Amphitheater for some Dave Matthews Bliss. In the parking lot we met up with PennyLane, ReginaFalangie and Daniel, who could be PennyLane’s brother (mainly due to the red hair). After being accosted at the front gate by the security guy, I quickly made my way to the restroom urged on by 60 ounces of water, a double Latte, and the bush . . . er . . . Busch that I slammed on the way from Daniel’s car to the front gate. Now, if urine were a desired commodity this restroom would be best described as a “urine sweatshop”. It had to be about 120 degrees inside, the air and ground both were very damp and I am pretty sure that neither was saturated with water. After making my way out of the urine fog, we found an acceptable piece of grass on which to set up base camp. A short time later we were basking in the warm, glowing, warming glow that is The Dave Matthews Band.

I will refrain from trying to describe the concert, as any effort on my part to do so would probably end up akin to a Muslim describing the Hajj as “that box.” Some highlights include: the guy near us that got busted during the concert for smoking pot, the Tori Amos look-alike that I met in the beer line, Dave’s dancing, and the spectacular 20 minute encore.

After the concert, we hung around the merchandise booth while t-shirts, stickers, and flip-flops were purchased. This was a good chance to make a last trip the Urine Factory, a chance that I passed up. I soon regretted this decision as my bladder felt like it was about to burst as we slowly exited the parking lot. Luckily, Laure pulled into somebody’s nearby driveway and I proceeded to water their plants for them as other concert-goers drove by giving me assorted thumbs-up, “Wooo-Hooos,” and one “If you gotta go, you gotta go!” Making our way to Michael’s house where we would be spending the night, we stopped by a Taco Cabana drive-thru for some grub. The following conversation took place:

Stupid Cashier: “Hold on a minute.”

Laure: “Ok.” (Turns to Custardstyle and Michael) “What do you guys want?”

Custardstyle: (Thinking of Whataburger taquitos) “Breakfast taco combo with a water”

Michael: (Apparently thinking of four crispy tacos) “Four crispy tacos.”

Stupid Cashier: (Several minutes later) “Go ahead.”

Laure: (Shouting into the receiver as she always does) “I need a breakfast taco combo with a wat-“

Stupid Cashier: (Rudely) “I can’t hear you.”

Laure: (Leaning out window a foot from the receiver, again shouting) “I need a Breakfast Taco Combo with a water, four crispy tacos, two soft tacos, and a bean burrito.”

Stupid Cashier: (Stupidly) “What kind of breakfast tacos would you like?”

Custardstyle: (Perplexed by this question since no options were offered on the menu and again thinking of Whataburger taquitos) “Bacon? I guess.”

Laure: (to Stupid Cashier) “Bacon”

Stupid Cashier: (Obviously only able to concentrate on one thing at time and using all available brain power to form the previous question) “What came after the combo?”

Custardstyle: (Yelling) “Fuck!”

Laure: (Screaming) “Should we pull up to the window so we can actually order?”

Stupid Cashier: (No Answer, obviously confused by such a notion)

Laure: (Throwing up hands in disgust repeats the order)

Stupid Cashier: (Verifies the order leaving off the two soft tacos)

Laure: “And two soft tacos”

Stupid Cashier: (After several minutes spent typing order and comprehending the number up on the screen) “$9.41”

We pulled around to the window and examined the contents of the bag closely because we knew we were about to get fucked. Sure enough, the two soft tacos and burrito were missing. Laure waves at guy inside to attract his attention; this goes on for about a minute. He finally sees her and slides the window back with excessive force.

Laure: “We’re missing two soft tacos and a bean burrito. And can we get some hot sauce?”

Stupid Cashier: (Looking stupid, glares back at Laure then slams window shut, returns later with one small tub of hot sauce)

Laure: (Shifts into bitch mode, and rightly so) “We’re going to need more than that!”

Stupid Cashier: (Slams window again, returns minutes later with rest of order and one more tub of hot sauce) “Here”

Laure: (Sarcastically) “Thank you.”

We then proceeded to Michael’s to eat; I anxiously await my breakfast burritos. After we arrived we sat down and began to eat. As I opened my breakfast tacos I quickly noticed that these were nothing like Whataburger taquitos. When you order bacon breakfast tacos at Taco Cabana this apparently means that you want a few pieces of undercooked pig meat wrapped in a flour tortilla. Since I was starving and sufficiently drunk on $6.75 beers, it didn’t really matter. However, if any employees of late night fast food joints are reading this: If the word “breakfast” is in the name of any of your products, it damn well better have some scrambled chicken period in it.