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October 22, 2004 > Opinion > Slamming the door on a Rice tradition

Slamming the door on a Rice tradition

By Polly D'Avignon | Thresher Editorial Staff

We’ve all had the nightmare. Life is normal and everything seems fine, until suddenly something goes horribly and unmistakably wrong and no amount of protesting or struggling or trying to wake up will stop it. I lived this nightmare recently. It was a normal Monday evening. I went to work, had some dinner, read some class assignments and spent time with friends in the Rice Village. On the way home, my friend and I decided to swing by Taco Cabana (the one on Kirby, to be precise) for a couple of taco combos. Ready to quench our queso hankering, we parked and headed for the door. But as I grasped the door handle and pulled it toward me … it didn’t budge. The door to Taco C was locked! Everything I knew to be real and true and good in life came to a crashing halt. Something was seriously wrong with the world. OK, so maybe the world didn’t really end. But nevertheless, the decision to close the doors of Taco C to the insomniac, drunken and hungry masses of Houston strikes a sad chord. Granted, the new hours are limited to Monday through Wednesday, and you can still go through the drive-through window to get your tortillas or beef burrito ultimo, but is that really much of a consolation? Filling half-a-dozen half-ounce cups of salsa de fuego or pico di gallo, tormenting the security officer, and contemplating stealing one of those badass Corona tables are as much a part of the appeal of Taco Cabana as the ridiculously cheap eats. Many of us made our maiden voyages to Taco C during the late nights of Orientation Week. Perhaps you even ‘borrowed’ a table or a cashier for your college’s scavenger hunt. So often the appeal of a trip to Taco C has nothing at all to do with food; it’s about maintaining the momentum of a party-packed evening, relieving the stress of a long night of studying and catching up with friends. Or maybe it’s just about the fun of seeing how many people you really can cram into a Honda Civic (nine). It is the excitement of venturing beyond the hedges in the middle of the night, mingling with real Houstonians and (occasionally) causing a ruckus in a public place. Taco Cabana trips are as ubiquitous to Rice culinary culture as Creamy Jalepeno from Chuy’s or late-night dining at House of Pies. These off-campus gastronomic excursions are as essential to the development of the Rice student character as midterm study breaks. They are places where alcohol is not a requirement (though sometimes it may be an instigator … ‘Duuuuude, let’s get some Teeee Ceeee!’). They are places where wonderful ideas are born, secrets are shared and laughs are plentiful. One only has to look around the dining room at Taco Cabana to realize that Houston is an amazingly diverse and colorful place, full of interesting people. In my years at Rice (and, yes, there have been quite a few), I have witnessed traditions form and fade. Family-style dinners are now distant memories, images barely recalled by a handful of fifth-years, while denying Martel’s college status now seems second nature. It is only natural that as the population continually shifts and classes come and go, pastimes change. Yet realizing that traditions inevitably evolve brings scant relief to those suffering from the sorrow of a once-cherished custom. While my life will go on and I will continue to visit my dear Tex-Mex favorite in the wee hours of the morning, a chapter of Rice history may be forever closing its doors to future generations of students.

Polly D’Avignon is a Jones College senior and Thresher business manager.

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