He arrived at La Jolla Shores every Saturday. It was his day off, but Gabriel needed the extra cash enough to show up each weekend. And unlike his regular gig, he didn’t get taxed on what he made selling elote.
No one was hungry for corn early in the morning, but he started at nine o’clock anyway. He found that simply seeing the cart pushed across the sand got the idea in people’s heads. As noon neared those same people would need lunch but not want to relinquish their hard-won spot on the beach. They’d remember his elote and Gabriel would be $10 richer.
Gabriel had bought his cart second-hand, loving the vintage look of the red block letters on the white metal shell. The only thing he added was a row brass bells on the handles. They clanged as he bumped over seaweed piles and wove around sand castles. There was no way of knowing if they caught anyone’s attention over the shriek of gulls and kids, but he liked the way they sounded. Their music was Gabriel’s own private symphony as he zigzagged his way up and down the beach.
Kids and adults alike would chase after him. A distinct mix of relief and giddy joy always flooded their voices as they ordered cups of corn. He felt proud knowing he was someone’s special treat or the perfectly timed solution to hunger.
The faces of customers blurred when he settled into the ritual of construction. Pull out a styrofoam cup. Butter the sides. Scoop the corn. Sprinkle the cheese. Squeeze the sour cream. Shake the tajín. Do it again and again and again.
Gabriel stayed on the beach until just before sunset. The esplanade flooded with onlookers as the sun sank, but years of loitering until dark had taught him that no one was in the mood for corn then.
He packed up his cart, loaded it into his truck and drove home in silence. The din of the day slowly faded so that the only thing Gabriel heard as he placed his head on his pillow was the ringing of bells.
Travel is one of my great loves. One reason is that I am constantly inspired. I find myself wondering at the lives of people I see or the backstory of the places I go. My imagination runs wild and I end up scribbling little vignettes into one of the notebooks I always carry.
This travel-inspired story started in La Jolla, California, where I saw a handful of these carts on the beach. I’d never seen to-go elote before and was charmed that it was just as popular of a snack as ice cream. Of all the carts, only one had bells. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Was the sound annoying? What was it like to push that cart all day? The answers to those questions made their way into this little story. I hope you enjoy it.
Ps: Yes, I absolutely bought a bowl of elote. It was delicious.
This made me hungry 😋
Yummm. Now I want some elote!