Del Taco Fiasco

Del Taco Fiasco

Dads should always be there to support you right? Well apparently my dad missed the caring father memo. He is now on his third wife, and this one seems to have it out for me. She complains to him about me all the time, and says that I’m rude and hateful to her and her kids (my half-brothers). She hates when I need to do anything that requires me taking my Dad away from her for more than 10 seconds. This past summer, I was in a show called Grease in Rialto (not the closest place I know but it was worth it). Little more information before I actually start the real story. My dad’s second wife cheated on him with someone, and they got a divorce. She left and we grew apart, until recently she reached back out to me and we got back in touch. She took her son (my half-brother) to come see my show, and my dad found out. So with that, let’s start this story.

Grease ended at about 11 o’clock at night on Fridays and Saturdays. My dad had to pick me up on his weekends, so he was already upset about having to come pick me up in Rialto. He tried to be funny the one time he had to pick me up, and he showed up late after joking with me that he had forgotten about having to pick me up. This meant that both of us were now in bad moods in the little beat up car from the 1970’s. I got in the car, and the first thing he said to me was “I heard your best friend came to see the show last week”.

I immediately knew that he was talking about Terry (my ex-stepmom), and just calmly replied “Yeah she did, so?” which started him on his long tangent about how much he hates her, and how much of a “bitch” she is, and how she only came to see the show to “piss [him] off”. What seemed like hours later, I was able to break through his one-sided conversation and ask for some dinner. He reluctantly agreed to get me dinner (that was a first) and we drove to the nearby Del Taco. I got my usual order of tacos and burritos. As we waited in the drive-through line, he started up his yelling again. I tried my best to ignore him as I usually do when he starts yelling at me, however this time it was much harder to ignore him as there was no way of getting away now.

He was yelling at me about how “ungrateful” and “rude” I am to his family. At this point I started screaming and crying, just yelling back at him about how he's my dad and he's supposed to be on my side not Monica’s (his current wife). At this point I needed to get away from him, so I opened the door and tried to escape the rage fueled hellhole I was trapped in. I started screaming “LET ME OUT! I JUST WANT TO GO HOME! LET ME GO HOME!” which I suppose wouldn’t sound too good to anyone who didn’t know that he was my dad…

We were waiting in the line for much longer than we should have, and I remember my dad yelling at me about how I better have not gotten the cops called on us. During all this, Monica kept texting and calling him, probably wondering where he was, he only answered his call once to tell her that he couldn’t talk to her right then because he “has to deal with his f**king daughter right now”. Almost immediately after that, a lady that works at Del Taco saying that we’re stalled because someone called the Cops on us. Whoopty-doo. After she left to talk to the next car to inform them of the hold up, he yelled at me about how he hopes that I’m proud of myself for that. I used my most prominent form of self defense, sarcasm. I quickly replied (out loud for once) “Yeah Dad! That’s exactly what I wanted to do when I got in the car today! Thank God I was able to complete my mission!”.

More yelling ensued, and I made the mistake of hitting the dashboard to emphasize my point, and then my dad decided to copy me. That’s the only time I have ever felt genuinely frightened of my Dad. With the roaring and then him hitting the dashboard, I thought he was going to hit me. During that, I quickly called my mom in a panic. She answered the phone to hear something that no mom ever wants to hear. Her daughter screaming and crying, and her Dad yelling back at her. I don’t remember much of that besides crying and begging her to come get me, to come save me, and then my dad yelling at her and telling her that she has no place in that argument.

I don’t remember which one of us hung up, but the call ended right before the Cops finally showed up. They walked to our car and had us get out, and sit on the curb (We are still in the Del Taco drive through by the way)… anyways there was a female Cop, and she patted me down as part of procedure I guess, and had me sit and talk to her. I had to tell her my name, age, address, and confirm my relation to my Dad. I’m sure I looked like a mess, my previously curled hair was now a birds nest, and my makeup was a mess. My mascara was running down my cheeks, and I think my lipstick was smeared on my face as well. Yikes… Well I’m sure she’s seen worse, we were in Rialto after all.

I called my mom again to ask her to pick me up (Rancho is a little out of the Rialto police jurisdiction) and listened to what they were telling my dad. It was the same old stuff everyone always told him, that if he has to resort to yelling to talk to me then maybe he should consider therapy, and that I’m not 7 anymore, I’m 17 and I won’t always do things he wants. He brushed off their advice as usual, and sat there glaring at me. Eventually they told him to leave and go home. Before he left, he came over to me and hugged me and whispered in my ear, “Remember who always supports you and is there for you no matter what.” What a load of crap. The rest of the night was uneventful as it was just me waiting for my step-dad to pick me up.

Dads should always support you, they shouldn’t yell at you in the car and then leave you in a Del Taco drive-through.

Also, I never got my tacos.