I'm no lightweight, but when I drink, I black out like Paris Hilton after pressing the record button. It's just how I react to alcohol, regardless of how much I have.
Curiously, the times I most remember are my late-night trips to Taco Bell. It's not that the place itself is particularly welcoming or memorable, and it's most certainly not the menu fare. In fact, never have I eaten there and not regretted it the next day.
No, the reason I cherish Taco Bell is because it's the place you can find—with frightening regularity—my favorite person in all of Madison—Heather. To Madison regulars, there are a few highly recognizable people in town—Mayor Dave, Piccolo Man (real name, Tom Ryan) and Scanner Dan are a few who come to mind. But for me, none of them embody Madison as much as Heather.
Heather is the pig-tailed woman who works the late shift at Taco Bell, and considering the circumstances, she is without a doubt the most cheerful person I have ever encountered. As a person who has spent bar time on the other side of the counter, I can empathize with Heather. It can be frustrating. People constantly try to cheat the system, pass out or forget how to count change. Frankly, if I was her, I'd probably start hurling chalupas and fire sauce at unruly frat boys.
Yet she invariably greets every customer with a firm, convincing smile. Undeterred by the increasing level of customer intoxication, she patiently interprets the mutterings and guttural noises passing for a 2 a.m. order. She even suggests water to some of the more inebriated patrons.
Come bar time, all I can think about is her Taco Bell, desiring nothing more than to unwrap her crunch supreme. Call me crazy, but I firmly believe she loves every minute of her work, and she is one of the main reasons the State Street Taco Bell is busy all night long.
Heather has one of the hardest and perhaps least rewarding jobs out there, yet she approaches it with an attitude of optimism and fulfillment. To me, Heather embodies the best of what Madison has to offer.
For example, when my friend recently stumbled to the counter and struggled to state his order, she offered a timeless icebreaker. ""It was funny to watch you walk in,"" she said with an encouraging grin.
Another friend has proposed to her twice. She said she'd think about it. If it happens, I just hope I'm invited to the wedding. I can imagine a Mountain Dew fountain and a delicious bean burrito main course. No caramel apple empanadas though—those are for the honeymoon.
Whatever Heather gets paid, which I can almost guarantee is less than what she deserves, I suggest Taco Bell double it. If they don't, we ought to put her on the city's payroll, because in her own way, she means more to this town than anyone in Bascom Hall or the Capitol combined.
