Day 1: Gordo

I could not help but feel slightly aprehensive as I gazed out along the difficult path laid before me over the next 12 months. As the year of tacos became less and less an abstract idea, and closer and closer to reality, I found myself wondering if any man, even one as fond of tacos as I, would be wise to embark on a journey as frought with peril and opportunities for failure as this one. Such were the thoughts running through my head as I entered Gordo on 9th avenue this afternoon. Ah, Gordo. The tacos of my youth. Tender tortillas stuffed to the point of overflowing with delicious meats, mouth watering guacamole, fresh salsa, and hearty black beans. One look at these tasty creations and I was instilled with a fresh sense of purpose in my quest to complete this year long trial. As bite followed bite, I marveled at the sensless doubts that had threatened to derail this, the greatest challenge of my life, before it had even commenced. After I finished my feast, a deep calm descended on me. Assured of my success, my thoughts turned to the future. Far from my recent apprehension, I now had an overwhelming confidence that, as my years on this planet waned, and I approached the end of my time on this earth, I would look back on the year of tacos as not only a daring experiment in the study of the human condition, but also as one of the greatest years of my life.
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