Robertos Road Trip
I land at the Tampa airport to visit my
buddy VanWilder. He grew up in the same neighborhood as me and got the hell out
of ghetto ass Chino faster than any of us. I've flown out to Tampa a few times
to hang out there because it's just paradise. Even wintertime it's in the 80s
and the amount of hot chicks here is unlike anywhere I have seen. He lives
right downtown on Davis Island and hangs out with college girls half a decade
younger than us. I call him VanWilder because he has been in college for about
9 years now.
Soon as I jump in his truck at the airport he is all excited and giddy.
VanWilder: Dude dude dude, you're never gonna believe this.
BD: What what what?
VanWilder: Look at this shit...
He hands me a Robertos Tacos Shop’s flyer. Robertos is famous only in San Diego and Las Vegas. In Vegas, it’s open 24 hours and is the BEST authentic Mexican food. The carne asada burritos are simply majestic.
BD: So what it's a Robertos Flyer?
He has a huge grin on his face
BD: Big deal man who cares, and why you have this flyer out here in Tampa?
VanWilder: Turn it over, look at the
The flyer has about 40 locations on the back with the addresses, I take a quick glance and see all the SD and LV stores.
BD: Why the fuck are you so happy? You just get laid or something?
VanWilder: Look at the bottom right….
On the bottom right there is a tiny section for ... FLORIDA????
BD: What the hell!?!? They have a Robertos out here!
VanWilder: I know, this chick just found it and showed me.
BD: Sweet lets go, wait, there's only two locations on here. Miami and Delray Beach.
VanWilder: Yup, Sunday were going to the one in Delray, you down?
BD: Yea sure lets do it, where is Delray?
VanWilder: About three hours from here, each way.
BD: WHAT! You want to drive 6 hours for a burrito?
VanWilder: Hell yea, Mexican food is SHIT out here, my neighbors are coming with us too, they have never had Robertos.
BD: Fuck it, OK. I'm drinking the whole way I hope you know.
VanWilder: Yea of course, and
you can watch those pirated movies you brought the whole way too on my system.
BD: Ha, let’s do it.
We hang out Friday and Saturday in Tampa and now Sunday finally rolls around. Lets do this boys, it’s time, ROAD TRIP! We all piled into VanWilder's Tahoe and headed off.
To go from Tampa (west coast Florida) to Delray Beach (east coast Florida) there is only one road to take. The fucking 60. It takes you through middle Florida. Now this is shocking. Soon as you get about an hour in you see some weird shit. Confederate flags everywhere, shithole metal shacks used for houses, more bugs and gnats than you can imagine, and even a few "The South Won The War" bumper stickers on cars. No shit, this is the redneck racist South here folks. We made a rule of no stopping till we see people with full sets of teeth.
We exit the 95 freeway on Atlantic Ave. and drive towards the beach. Looking around, this is a freaking nice ass town. Like the tiny sleepy beach towns you see in movies. We visited the beach and drove around the town for a bit to check it out. I was in awe.
BD: Dude this would be a badass place to live, I'm gonna move here someday.
VanWilder: You always say you're moving to Florida, you're all talk fag.
BD: Na I'm serious, I just decided. This is it.
VanWilder: Stop looking at the
beach and keep an eye out for Robertos.
Three years later, I did move to Florida.
And it was because of this trip that I chose Delray Beach, the city where the title story of this book took place. No Shit.
We finally find Robertos, and it's just as it is in Vegas. Exactly the same. Every single menu item. We get there and tell the lady working there that we drove all the way from Tampa for some carne asada burritos. It might have been interesting to her if she spoke english but whatever, same shit as in Vegas.
BD: Hey VanWilder, it took us like four hours to get here.
VanWilder: Yea, so? This is good shit who cares.
BD: No no, my flight back leaves in four hours and fifteen minutes!
VanWilder: What! Ha, hurry up
and eat. Order some to go food also.
VanWilder drove back to Tampa as fast as possible. Which is about as fast as we drove there because he drives 90mph everywhere anyway. As we get back into Tampa we are about 20 minutes from the airport. My flight leaves in about 30 minutes. And my bag and shit is back at his place downtown, which isn't exactly an easy in, easy out type place to swing by.
BD: Fuck my stuff just get me to the airport.
VanWilder: You’re just gonna leave it here? I think we have time…
BD: No way, it’s the last direct flight back to Vegas, I don't need anything in my bag.
VanWilder: I'll FedEx it to ya
tomorrow from work.
We pull up to the airport and I jump out of the truck running straight to the security. Luckily Tampa is probably the only well run airport in the country and there is no line. I get through quickly and run to the tram. I run off the tram right to my gate. They are closing the door as I get there.
BD: ONE MORE! ONE MORE!
AirlineChick: There's always one that misses the Vegas trip...
BD: Na I'm just trying to get back home.
AirlineChick: No bags at all?
BD: No time, had to ditch them.
Just had lunch in Delray Beach.
AirlineChick: Delray is like way on the….
BD: Yea I know, that's why I'm late.AirlineChick: Haha ok, well enjoy your flight.
Whew. That deserves a Jack and Coke for celebration. I text VanWilder thanx and I'm outta here.
A week later my backpack shows up at my house. Apparently FedEx will ship regular backpacks for idiots that think an eight hour road trip to get good Mexican food is a good idea.