Burritos (sort of) at VSC

At summer camp, taco night was an inevitablity, deviously designed by camp administrators to cure adolescent girls of their bashful constipation. Horse camp + public bathrooms + adolescent angst = no pooping. But on taco night, all hell broke loose. I won a fistfight once at summer camp. For a bathroom stall on taco night.

Here at VSC, everyone poops normally. A lovely gentleman by the name of Bill confessed that all this healthy food and scheduled activity in the land of granola-heads was giving him frighteningly regular bowel movents. Like, I eat dinner at 6:15, go to the slideshow at 8:00, crap at 9:32, and fall asleep promptly at 11:05.

So it took them almost two weeks to break out the tacos. Technically, taco night consisted of non-heated, store-bought tortillas and salad-bar style ingredient bowls. So it could have been tortilla night. Or burrito night. Or whatever you normally call your favorite Mexican food wrap.

Other than the tortillas sucking and the rice being a healthy brown instead of a taco-appropriate Spanish style, taco night was a success. Most resorted to using forks when the tortillas failed to hold up under the weight of saucy black beans, guac, pico, red and green salsa, and anything else you could want. They made a fish mix for the meatheads, too.

Taco night, incidentally, happened right after David's performace piece in which he did naked yoga in the river. The title of the performance: What People Really Do in Vermont.