This morning was a morning like no other. Not only did I wake up at a reasonable hour, but I also went to my local Taco Bell. Sober. I had never even seen this Taco Bell during the day, and now I was getting breakfast inside it. It felt like a momentous occasion. The kind of event I know I'll one day tell my grandchildren about. March 27, 2014: the day America got its Waffle Taco.
I pulled up to T-Bell at 7:15 AM. To accommodate the breakfast menu, most Taco Bells now open at 7, and breakfast hours go until 11 AM. The lot was empty, and no one but me was inside. I was shocked. Did no one else in this godforsaken city get the memo? TACO BELL HAS BREAKFAST. WAKE UP, SHEEPLE!
I stared at the menu. My options were much more limited than I'm used to. For breakfast I could choose between a Waffle Taco, an AM Crunchwrap, an AM Grilled Taco, and/or a Breakfast Burrito. Each item can be made with your choice of bacon or sausage. Of course, they all have eggs and cheese inside them. The only difference between each item was what kind of wrapping you want around your eggs, cheese, and meat. There is also a breakfast dessert brought to you by Cinnabon called Cinnabon Delights, as well as a hot brown beverage deceptively called coffee.
After much deliberation, I ordered a Waffle Taco, an AM Crunchwrap, Cinnabon Delights, and a hot coffee. My order number was 260. Did 259 people get here at 7 and finish by the time I got here at 7:15? Anywhere else, this sort of thing sounds impossible, but at Taco Bell you never know. I waited longer than usual to get my food: a whole three minutes. As my number was called, the cashier stuffed my bag with maple syrup, salsa, and ketchup packets. He also handed me my coffee and told me to enjoy my day. I wanted to respond by saying, “I'm buying breakfast at Taco Bell. Do you really think I can enjoy my day after this?” But instead I just said “thanks” like the well-mannered girl that I am, and I went to sit at a table.
The first thing I decided to eat was the Waffle Taco. It came in a box that said, in bold lettering, “The Waffle is the new Taco.” Already this made no sense. To me this was like saying, “Trees are the new Shirts,” or “Keys are the new Flowers." There's no way a waffle can be a taco, because a taco is a taco. Just because you can fold it doesn't mean it's a taco.
When you fold a slice of pizza in half, does that turn it into a taco? No, it's still fucking pizza. But I wasn't going to let myself get too hung up on this failed attempt to rebrand the waffle. I opened up the box, and there it was in all its hyped-up glory. Eggs smothered in melted cheese on top of sausage on top of a thin waffle. I took my first bite without adding any sauce of any kind. It tasted like nothing.
The waffle is completely flavorless on it's own, as are the eggs. The sausage was salty, but not enough to make it enjoyable. I figured I should try it again but with syrup. This part was confusing. I like syrup on my waffles, but am I supposed to also put it on my eggs and sausage? This felt wrong, but I went ahead and did just that.
My Waffle Taco resembled vomit, though it tasted a bit better. It was like adding sugar to a pile of shit. Needless to say, I was underwhelmed. Why was there so much hype surrounding this, and not the other new breakfast items? The way I see it, the Waffle Taco is the 69-ing of fast food—hilarious, horrifying, and regrettable. More fun in theory than in practice. Makes you question everything wrong you've done in your life that got you to this point. Will try again many more times.
I moved on to the AM Crunchwrap, which I think is Taco Bell's attempt to mimic a McMuffin. I only say this because it's round. I unwrapped the bad boy and all I saw was a slightly burnt flour tortilla. I instantly bit in, and the first bite was mostly tortilla with a little bit of egg. I bit once more, and this time was greeted with hash browns and sausage.
I looked up from my decadent meal and noticed that a bunch of teens on their way to school came in and formed a line. It finally hit me who the target demo must be for this stuff: kids who don't know any better. I sipped on my coffee, which had Taco Bell's slogan, “Live Más,” printed on the cup. To read those words (which translate to “live more”) at this point felt like a dare.
I have to hand it to the AM Crunchwrap, though. This was far better than the Waffle Taco. Not only did I get to put ketchup on this one, but I also got to eat hash browns, which were stuffed inside. Hash browns are really hard to fuck up. Even if you're Taco Bell.
The grand finale of my breakfast was the Cinnabon Delights. I got four balls of cinnamon-sugar-covered dough in a tiny bag. I bit into one and felt an immense rush of sweetness that made me actually say “Oh, shit” out loud. The “Cinnabon frosting” inside was gooey and warm. It tasted more like sugar-butter than like frosting. I couldn't handle eating another one of these things. It wasn't bad, however. I just knew that if I ate more I would hate myself.
If you are a confident person with high self-esteem and a general positive attitude, I say go ahead and eat all four Cinnabon Delights. But if you're like me and have not yet matured into a functioning adult able to see the positives of life, then the Cinnabon Delights are not for you.
After finishing my meal, I got back into my car and drove home. My stomach hurt, of course. I sat on my couch and stared at the wall for 20 minutes really not knowing what was going to happen next. Either the food would finish digesting in my angry stomach, or this stuff was going to come out from one or multiple of my orifices.
Unluckily for me, the food stuck around and is now a part of me for the rest of the day. Do I regret what I've just done? Yes, of course I do. Will I eat this crap again? Yes, of course I will. Next time I'll know to skip the Waffle Taco, though. You should too... but maybe I won't.
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