Yes, it’s a sad and painful moment which involves me picking up a hard-shell taco and very gently squeezing it together so I can fit it in my mouth. But then just before I can bite, a loud splintery crack fills the air and I notice I’ve just given my taco a career-ending spinal injury by splitting it into two giant half-circle nachos barely squeezing the greasy meat, cheese, and lettuce together.
The next thirty seconds are a tornado chomping blur as I bite hard and fast to avoid the entire taco crumbling into a pathetic wet beaver’s dam of splintered shells, sour cream smears, and grease drops.
It doesn’t always work and I’m often left a pathetic mess with greasy fingers, bits of tomato in my hair, and a fine dusting of taco shell sprinkled on my pants.
And that’s why it’s great when someone actually manages to eats a taco without anything falling out.
Because we didn’t think you could do it.
And you proved us all wrong.