Welcome to Enchilada Springs
Sally was tense. Fed up with life in corporate America, a dud of a fiance and one too many fungal infections from having her eyebrows threaded in the back of the convenience store/nail salon, she escaped to New Mexico–Land of Enchantment.
And enchanted she was. Lured by advertisers and typo-infested and grammatically incorrect TripAdvisor postings, she succumbed to the promise of blue skies, breathtaking scenery and soothing hot springs.
Sally immersed herself into the springs and immediately felt rejuvenated. The troubles at home seemed light years away and in that moment she could give a rat’s ass if she ever went back. Her fiance? He had bad breath and wore highwater khakis. Her job? It was a go-nowhere meaningless position that bled her soul of any meaning. Those infections? Well, plain old plucking would do from now on.
She was alone. It seemed odd. Such an invigorating attraction but absent of hotel guests, obnoxious RVers and road trippers looking for a rock to pee behind and a free bath.
“I’m just lucky,” Sally thought before plunging into the springs.
When she resurfaced she smelled something out of place. She scanned the landscape and noticed something on the rocks. She swam toward them for a better look and found a plate of enchiladas. They were still hot. The cheese was melting. But where did they come from?
It was 9:30am and she wasn’t hungry. But this was the Land of Enchantment. No matter how fucking random it was for a plate of enchiladas to magically appear on a rock next to some hot springs, the smell was irresistible.
Above: Part of an actual New Mexico tourism ad found in local Texas magazine.
She took a bite. She savored the blend of garlic, onions, cumin, and something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She took another bite and started to feel dizzy. She reclined into the water and floated on her back with a mouth full of enchiladas. She chewed and chewed and swallowed. She felt sleepy and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and exhaled, the heat of the enchiladas billowing into the air.
She never woke up.
New Mexico—Land of Enchantment or killer enchiladas? Don’t let the ads fool you.