Taco Bell. The best-known fast food taco franchise in the United States. Well, I don’t know that, but at least in my hometown Lexington, that fact stands. I’m not much of a taco eater, as I’m more into nachos, but on a chilly day a few years ago, my beloved crunchy snack sat cold on the table at my local Taco Bell.
I had just left the house with my dad and my seven-year-old brother, eager to eat something “real” (basically anything that wasn’t in the fridge at home). I purchased a Nacho Supreme ® while the boys got their usual: an excessive amount of hard and soft tacos, asking for a variety of hot sauces to “spice up” their pliable and crunchy meals. We weren’t the only people at this establishment; there was a group of buff college-looking boys sitting a few tables down in some obnoxiously high chairs and across the restaurant sat an unhappy family consisting of a mother, a boyfriend, and his pregnant girlfriend.
Just as the number for our food had been called, each of us eager to start munching our gloriously processed grub, an argument broke out between the young woman and her boyfriend.
My father and I decided to keep an eye and an ear out on this couple. Because of the nosey relationship my dad and I have, we gossip, so any form of relationship drama is great content for us. But our newly found entertainment was becoming all too confusing. Abruptly, the angry boyfriend left his girlfriend and moved towards the counter where he proceeded to attack the cashier, attempting to drag her by her hair.
He only released the battered woman when my dad intervened. The man’s girlfriend approached him, perhaps hoping to calm his nerves, but he unexpectedly reached out with forceful hands and grabbed the woman around the neck. She (concerningly) seemed unfazed with the situation, almost as if it was a common occurrence. My dad told me to watch my brother. I stood once making sure my brother was still seated and dialed 911.
“911 what’s your emergency?” a woman's voice asked.
“Hi, yes there is a man choking his girlfriend at this Taco Bell.” I responded.
“All right, police are en route, could I have the address of your current location please?” she asks.
My geographic knowledge failed me. I’ve always been bad with street names, so when the operator asked me what street I was on, I walked over to one of the other employees, distraught with the current situation. “Excuse me,” I said, hopefully helping her out of the daze she was in, “but what street is this?”
“Harrodsburg Road” she responded moments after I asked.
As I returned to the voice over the phone and inquired about how long it may take and the current location of the en route officers, my father struggled to pull the man’s frustrated hands off the woman’s neck. “Stay on the phone” the emergency operator instructed me, and I did as I led my brother towards the back of the store, farther from the action. This is when I noticed the group of college boys from a few tables down, intently watching my fifty-something father wrestle a much fitter, mentally disturbed man away from his submissive girlfriend, all while watching it through the lens of the smartphones.
Once securing my brother safely towards not only a door and farther away from the horrendous actions of the attacking man, I trekked back towards the front, where the woman was calmly talking to her partner and my dad, telling them “she’s fine” and how much she loves her boyfriend. Suddenly, the man switched positions, now using his forearm to choke and lift the woman by her neck, letting her feet dangle as he lifted her off of the ground. Suddenly, his attention was fixated towards me and proceeded to speak.
I vividly remember the man telling me to “MOVE.” He repeated this but I didn’t listen. I wasn’t sure what would happen if I abided by his commands, so I stayed put. Grappling with the man, my dad motioned me to move farther away (which I later learned that my dad feared he may have a weapon). My father’s glasses were knocked from his face and landed on the tiled floor. I grabbed them so they wouldn’t be stepped on.
Once my father separated the crazed man from his oddly serene girlfriend, the police finally made it to the scene. The authorities took action and talked to the combative man, the meek woman, the injured cashier, and my weary dad. I retrieved my brother from the back of the store and sat down, and told the emergency operator that law enforcement had arrived and that I would hang up. I scanned the room as I anxiously waited for the conversations between the victims, perpetrators, and police to finish up and noticed the college boys once again, sitting unfazed. It peeved me that I, a thirteen year old, had to be the one to step into action while they ate their dollar tacos, witnessing the conflict and recording it as it unfolded but choosing to stay seated without helping.
Afterwards, my family was a little distressed when the man was allowed to leave with the pregnant woman who still seemed to love her abuser so much. My nachos by this point had become cold to the point that they were bleak to look at. It also didn’t help that we weren’t exactly in the mood to eat anymore. We got up, threw away our cold food, got in the car, and drove off.
Now, how does this give context to me now? And was this a vital piece of information about me? No. But, I do think it can really show my stubborn personality, which definitely people in my everyday life have to deal with on a constant basis, so at least now they can know that I've had this attitude for a long period of time, which can at least let people have a better understanding of me. Not super sure if this is a good trait for college, but whatever, if they like me, they like me, if they don't, oh well.
