So my girlfriend turns to me and says, "You know what? Every year I say I want a churro, and every year I end up not getting one!"
Now we all know the joy and euphoria a churro can bring, so you can understand how we were excited for her decision to indulge in, and share with me, one of life's many great pleasures.
So she skips merrily off to Mr. Churro Cart Man with her $4 and comes back with a funny look on her face and what seemed to be some kind of hard, brittle, sandstone-like shaft covered in cinnamon/sugar. "Well I paid $4 for it" she says as she takes the first bite.
Now you may be thinking, "what, a crunch not unlike those cinnamon twists at Taco Bell?" No sir. I'm talking somewhere between overcooked bacon and old chalk mixed with the distinct grit one would associate with chewing sand.
Like a trooper, she managed to survive, teeth intact, ingesting this entire culinary disaster which was slightly less disappointing than wasting the $4 that could have been spent on 2/3 of a slice of Spicy Pie.
That said, I've always been impressed with the above-average quality of the festival food at Coachella, but this churro mishap was a complete disaster. We'll likely be sticking to Spicy Pie and Gyros from here on out thank you very much.