hopping around {open!}

[caden isaac hawks]

As a poor college-aged guy who worked in a souvenir shopped and lived in the nicest shitty apartment he could afford, Caden Hawks lived for ninety-nine cent taco day. Being able to stuff his face with as many tacos as he could possibly want for under five dollars [because who needed more than five tacos?] was like heaven on earth and it was rare that any wednesday went without seeing Caden at the Taco Stop. He was there so often that the only thing they ever needed to ask was how many and what kind of meat--they all knew the other intricate specifics.

This Wednesday was no exception. He was there on his lunch break, garbed in a stupid souvenir shirt that he wore to work [and loved, no matter how long he had lived on the island] with an open hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts. Anyone that knew Caden knew that he dressed like a tourist all the time and it didn't matter where he was going. Most people also knew, or at least wouldn't be surprised by the fact, that Caden liked to get every possible meat on his taco. Since they weren't quite big enough for that, he always liked to change it up. Today was carnitas and barbacoa. Taco Stop knew what the works meant for a Caden taco--cheese, tomatoes, onions, salsa, sour cream, and cilantro. A couple newbies had tried to put lettuce on one once, but they had been harshly reprimanded and now were some of his best taco makers.

Since it was such a nice day outside, staying in would have been a crime, so once Caden had his tray of five tacos [it had been a busy morning at work] with some extra things from the salsa bar, he took it outside to find an empty table. The Taco Stop was usually crowded, but on Wednesdays, it was like a small city. The tourists especially liked to sit outside, in their silly outfits that looked just like Caden's. Luckily, Taco Stop had a large outside area, so Caden managed to find a small table under an umbrella with relative ease, at which point he dug into his tacos like he hadn't eaten in days.