The 'L' stands for Missoula's Lolo High School. Doh!

THE BURRITO GUY - April 2002

Friday night, Missoula, Montana. A crew of us grad students are at the Old Post bar. We had eaten dinner there, been swilling malted beverages for some time, and it is now around midnight. Bruce and I go up to the bar, and I order three Pacifico's. Meagan comes by, thirsty, and I give her a bottle and Bruce the other. We are quite pleased with the night, good company, and the fact that we each have a cold beer in hand.

The band starts playing Neil Diamond's "Sweet Caroline," and everyone seems to slip right into it. Somehow, the 50 or so people in this one-room bar socially coalesce a bit - still strangers with each other, yet aware that good times are being had by all, and that we are happy to be in this bar at this late hour - kind of like a crew of sailors who, far out at sea, feel good about the ship that they have chosen.

"Sweet Caroline" is building in force as it approaches the first chorus, and a man near the band stands up in front to conduct a drunken dance. He has a half-eaten burrito in hand, and is holding it up high while he sways and turns. Meagan and I recognize him as the same guy who a few hours earlier had showed up at the bar's open door on a sputtering motorcycle. The headlight, blinkers and taillights were all smashed on the bike; it had two Petzel headlamps duct taped to the front of it, and he told us he had paid $50 for the bike earlier that day.

The music is escalating, the crowd cheering a bit more, and the man with the burrito begins for some reason to unbutton and take off his shirt. Acting in accordance with the triumphant rising of the song, he tosses his shirt aside and sways and turns around drunkenly with the burrito still held high.

The band is starting to wail, "Hands, touching hands. Touching me, touching yooouuu!!!...."

And then, with the crescendo, he starts to rub the burrito on himself, smothering beans, lettuce, cheese, and sour cream over his chest and face.

"….Sweet Caroline!!!! Da! Da! Daaa!! Good times never seemed so good!!!!...."

We join others in hooting at the drunk guy and the band, watching the entire bar elevate in energy, and tip in scale toward pandemonium.

"…Iiiiiiiiii feel inclined. Da! Da! Daa!..."

The guy's smothered burrito dissolving onto himself and the floor, and he now holds both hands up high, prancing in front of the bar and absorbing the cheers and chaos.

A girl suddenly comes up to him wearing a nice blue dress. To dance with him, I'm not sure. The guy grabs her, and holds her tight to his chest, which we could all tell she did not enjoy. Letting her go, she steps back to examine her burrito-smothered dress. Drunk herself, and obviously dismayed with the guy and her burrito-ed dress, she grabs a beer off a table and throws it at him, missing. She then walks to another table and grabs an empty pint glass and throws it at him. Missing again, the glass flies over the stage between two of the band's members and shatters against the brick wall behind them.

The bar, now completely uproarious, absorbs all this commotion without even wincing. A few minutes later the guy runs out of the bar cheering to himself, jumps on his bike, and sputters away.