Today, for lunch, I frequented the Laguna Beach Taco Bell off PCH and Cleo. I do this on a weekly basis, and always have a good time people watching when I dine in. Today's main attraction right off the bat was a gaggle of loud mouth little indie chicks with bad hairdos and facial piercings.
"I fucking hate being short. Well I'm not really short, but you know."
No, I don't know. Keep it down.
I ordered my usual (re)Meximelt with jalapeno sauce, 7-layer burrito (evenly layered) and an odd choiced enchirito. Once my order was up, I set out for seating, avoided the little broads and sat on the other side of the room. To my left was the next attraction: two of your average dutchmn, one a little moreso than the other. They sounded like tourists, not by any accent or anything, but just because the pale whities in CA don't talk like these guys...
(In all seriousness, no joke intended) "Yeah, he tries to call me sometimes. Have you seen his baby momma?"
Don't get me wrong, the usual characters were there too: we had the timid caucasian family "out to lunch", the creepy older guy in the white shirt with the stretched out sleeve holes (of course, that sat a little too close to the gaggle of girls) and the friend or family member (I can never tell) of at least one of the employees. I envy those ones, they always get hooked up.
Last, and certainly not a bit least was the middle aged guy that looked as if he might've just recently gotten laid off. His attire aimed for business casual with his white-collared shirt and slacks, but the CROCS on his feet with grey socks and the faded acid-wash purple hat on his head said "I'm gonna look for a job tomorrow." I really paid no nevermind to him when he entered, but it was after he received his food did he come into the frame. He wanted a fork, simply a fork. Of course to anyone that's been to Taco Bell, they know there are no forks, only the almighty spork. He looked where the sporks were located and turned back. He asked the cashier for a fork, the cashier quickly retorted.
"We don't have forks." he said.
"I know, that's why I came to you." The man replied.
"We only carry sporks."
"Well you only have spoons. No more forks."
"Those are sporks, we don't have normal forks."
Then the man walked off silently, picked up one of the said sporks, and walked back to his seat with a defeated and embarassed look on his face.
All in all, today the clientelle was better than the food.