Give Us a Twirl

It was in service of that mission that Jenna came to my place on a Friday morning. We'd heard of a trio of burrito food trucks called The Tortilla Flotilla that would set up in various spots around the port. The name did come across as a Burrito Barge knockoff, but word of mouth was that they were pretty good, so we were going to try and find one today.

By this point we were well past buzzing each other into our respective apartments and had traded keys. Three knocks on my door and the sound of the deadbolt turning let me know she had arrived to begin the search. I got up to greet her at the door and gave her the usual hug and kiss hello.

We figured we ought to plan things out to try and maximize our chances of finding one of the burrito trucks, so we sat down on the couch, got out our phones, and started going over the maps. There were a few places that looked promising, as they were known to have the most workers breaking for lunch around the same time, which drew a large number of food trucks. A couple of these weren't too far from each other, so there was a decent chance we'd be successful.

Right when we were getting ready to go, we both got email notifications at the same time, which was weird. Curious, we checked our mail and saw that we'd gotten messages from Kenta. He was writing to see how we were doing and to give us an update on his dad. Things were much better than they had been, but he was still quite a way from a full recovery. Even though he had a long road ahead, the doctors were now convinced he would get back to 100% someday.

We both sent him a reply, wishing him and his family well, and asked him if there was anything needed from the US. Messages sent, we checked our maps and the bus schedule one last time, then headed for the door.

Just as we were getting our shoes on, both our phones dinged at the same time again.

"Kenta again?" Jenna wondered.

"Could be."

We pulled our phones out, but it wasn't Kenta who'd emailed us. We'd both gotten mail from the same address, but it wasn't one we recognized. The subject line was "I'm sorry."

"Is this some new scam?" Jenna asked.

"Maybe, but our names are the only ones in the "to:" field, and there aren't any other addresses CCed"

"We're on our phones, so it should be safe to at least read it."

We both opened the email, and it wasn't spam. It probably would've been better if it had been.

It was an apology letter from the owner of the forum we'd been banned from back in the spring. He wanted to tell us that he'd tried both restaurants (we did notice that he never said which side he was on to begin with), and agreed that we were right in saying they were both good. However, in the interest of keeping his site from erupting into chaos all over again, he would not be reversing our bans. nor would he be reporting his findings on the forum himself.

I couldn't figure out any possible reason for this.

"Why email us?" I asked. "Is he trying to score brownie points with himself or something?"

Jenna had more succinct thoughts.

"Fuck that guy."

"Delete it," I said, nodding agreement. "Nothing good can come of this. Don't read it again. Don't reply. Just delete it."

Jenna tapped on her phone a few times. "Delete what? The last email I have is from Kenta," she said, showing me her screen with a grin. "How about you?"

I tapped my phone a few times, and smiled as I showed her the screen. "Same. What were we just talking about?"

"The Tortilla Flotilla. We're going to track them down and find out if they're really all that."

"Yes, we are. And even if they're not the burritos we're looking for, we're going to keep on looking until we find the ones that are."

"Awesome," said Jenna. "Let's do this."

Roll credits.