Anyone Hungry?  Hail to the Taco Bell Arena


NOTE: this was originally submitted (and published) in "The Arbiter" - the student newspaper of Boise State University regarding their indoor arena ("The Pavillion") being renamed to "Taco Bell Arena."  This blog appears word for word as it does on The Arbiter site - I know because I just cut and pasted it.  Check out the link and leave a comment at this story's web address: http://www.arbiteronline.com/vnews/display.v/ART/2004/07/14/40f5df19dd1c6   I'd really like to keep writing material like this for them, so I'm hoping that they'll recieve enough positive response that they'll let me do more (that's where you come in; I'll be your best friend I promise).

But I digress, on to the story...

 

The way I see it, good ideas are usually few and far between. They are so rare that when we actually have one, we bask in its ideological glory by regular means of gloating to our friends, family, and Internet sex pals. Sometimes a good idea will come about slowly and deliberately, but they usually manifest themselves like an abrupt sneeze at a fancy restaurant: loudly and without the common courtesy of foreshadowing. I’ve had many great ideas in my time, and have been witness to even more; but nothing compares to the recent conception of “TACO BELL ARENA.”

For those of you who aren’t up on recent events, Taco Bell recently bought the naming rights to the Boise State Pavilion for a whopping 4 million bucks! That’s more than 2,515,723 Nacho Cheese Chalupas. Even if you break the payments down to and annual basis, we’re still talking over 83,594 Grilled Stuffed Burritos per year!

So in lieu of The Pavillion, we now have Taco Bell Arena. Personally I like tacos and indigestion, so I headed down to the local Taco Bell on Broadway Avenue for a little glimpse of what Boise State can expect for the next 15 years.As luck would have it, there was a fender bender in the intersection in front of the restaurant, so some good Samaritan had taken it upon himself to direct traffic away from the horrendous scene of twisted metal and human carnage- well as much human carnage as you can get for a quarter inch ding on an SUV bumper-until the police could come and politely tell both parties (and the self appointed traffic flagger) not to bother them unless an accident actually happened. Needless to say, I asked our good Samaritan for the best route to Taco Bell, and in his excited state two things happened: 1) He told me to perform a rather impossible sexual act on myself, and 2.) I ended up about a quarter of a mile away from Taco Bell. In all, I’d rate this driving experience at least five points higher than any encounter I’ve had with the Boise State traffic crew on account of personality and efficiency. Hopefully the Taco Bell Arena talent scouts were in the area.

Exhilarated after a seven minute detour, I finally stepped foot into our beloved Taco Bell. One thing I’ve noticed about fast food chains is that each of them has their own personal scent; Subway, for instance, always smells like bread dough and gym socks. Taco Bell is no exception to this rule. As I opened the glass door, I was overcome by an aroma-avalanche of refried beans and cat food (Imagine the movie “Backdraft”, but with the odor instead of flames). Wind burned, I took my place behind a windy line of a dozen people—including six kids who changed their orders no less than five times each. Eventually, I ordered some kind of taco pizza (in actually it looked more like a regular burrito that someone forgot to roll up), I tossed back a couple of Tums, and basked in the relaxing glow of a partially wiped off table.

The way I look at it the Taco Bell Arena is going to be a hit. In fact, I’m honestly looking forward to it. Imagine the possibilities of combining such a lucrative fast food chain with our beloved Pavilion. Upon entering the parking lot—after being directed to Nampa and back by orangutans with orange directional lights—you’d pull up to the drive through intercom and order your concessions, get a number (for instance: 783), park your car, then wait by the side of the ticket office while they call out “…number 137…”. Instead of having a young boy push the courtside brooms during timeouts at basketball games, there will be an unshaven high school junior who’s trying to make the payments on his Dodge Daytona.

I played the drums during the basketball games for years, and am deeply disappointed that I’ll miss the opportunity to replace the cymbals with tortillas. Even the names “Balcony” and “Mezzanine” will be changed to “Burrito” and “Burrito that somebody forgot to roll up”.

What excites me the most, though, is the wall of taco smell that will greet visitors as they enter. After all, if Disneyland can make the Pirates of the Caribbean ride smell like a bunch of sweaty buccaneers, surely somebody can make the Taco Bell Arena smell like stale bagels and filthy pigeon coupes.

In the meantime, all of this typing has made me hungry. If anybody needs me I’ll be down at Taco Bell trying to roll up a taco pizza.