By. Adam Bankhurst
Back in 1993, when a young Steve Ells had a dream to create a burrito with integrity, I find it hard to believe he knew what an impact his creation would have on the world.
More specifically, my world.
I feel comfortable saying, without a shadow of a doubt, I am one of Chipotle’s biggest fans and supporters.
I don’t say this lightly either.
I have lived and breathed this Mexican masterpiece ever since my first enlightening experience back in 2004. I vividly remember hearing murmurs and rumors of this new burrito and taco place that everyone was raving about. For whatever reason, I pictured a high-class, sit-down Mexican restaurant. Even from my first introduction, I already held it to a high standard.
When I first walked in to my first Chipotle in Cleveland, OH, I was blown away. My first meal was three chicken tacos, and from there on, I knew I’d found love.
By. Adam Bankhurst
Wake up. Hit snooze.
Wake up again. Get out of bed.
I don’t know what it is about those nine minutes, but I thank the heavens each and every day for them. It’s such a small, negligible addition to my slumber, but waking up knowing I have another nine minutes of no responsibility is surprisingly refreshing.
As I get up and continue my cookie cutter day, I look forward to moments similar to the infamous “snooze.” These are sprinkled throughout the next 16 or so hours until I am welcomed back into my way-too comfortable bed. They break up an otherwise monotonous repetition that never seems to really change.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I dislike my life or anything. I just feel as if I’m stuck.
I don’t understand.
“Alor, we don’t have time for this…”
He’s just standing there, staring off into a world that doesn’t exist to us anymore.
“We can’t stay here anymore, it’s too dangerous.” I seem to say only to myself.
I make Alor move and lead him along the path into the forest, while behind us we hear the cries and screams of those long beyond saving.