Nuts for donuts.

Last weekend I headed to South Padre Island with a friend of mine for a little Labor Day R&R. My family has had a place in Padre since I was little, and I went there every summer growing up. I hadn't been down there for about four years and it was as relaxing as I'd remembered, save about one hour Sunday morning.

When I was little, we'd always go to one of the local bakeries and get, amongst other treats, these delicious apple fritters. I don't really eat donuts, and I certainly never eat fritters...unless I'm in Padre, and they're from my favorite little bakery.

Sunday morning, I woke up, and in less than 10 minutes I was dressed and on my way to the bakery. I'd heard the bakery had been sold and wasn't as good as it used to be, but I was determined. I pulled up and walked inside. The place was bustling...but with people seated eating actual breakfasts. I looked to the left and there was a bakery case filled with...air? I couldn't see a single pastry. But there were several white cake boxes behind the counter. Maybe there were selling them pre-packaged? Undeterred, I told the hostess who was running around clearly flustered that I simply wanted to pick up some pastries. When she had a moment, she asked what I wanted.

"Okay, first, I need one apple fritter."

"We don't have apple fritters. All we have is what's in the case."

She nodded to another portion of the case that had exactly five donuts in it, none of which looked appetizing. But I wasn't going home empty-handed.

"Um, okay, do you have any glazed donuts?"

"Those are glazed," she replied and pointed to two twists that appeared to be covered in white cake icing. I felt like saying, "Bitch, what about that gloopy white shit is GLAZE?" Instead, I told her I'd take them both.

I got back in the car knowing these were never going to hit the spot. I'd been dreaming about my apple fritter for a week, and this nasty ass twist covered in an inch of icing wasn't gonna cut it. So I pulled out my Blackberry and looked up the closest donut shop. Daylight Donuts, Laguna Vista, TX. I had no idea where that was, but I saw it was only 8 miles away on a street called Santa Isabel Blvd. At this point, I was a girl on a mission.

I called my mom on my way to see if she knew where Laguna Vista was.

"It's on the other side of Port Isabel. D'you call 'em to make sure they have fritters?"

"No. But they'll have donuts, and at the very least they'll be better than these nasty things I got at the bakery."

"Awlright," she said skeptically, "but I'd still call 'em. Why don't you just get them at the grocery store in Port Isabel? Then you won't have to drive awl the way to Laguna Vista."

"Laguna Vista's only 8 miles from here. I've run 8 miles before." (lie) "So it's not that far, and I'd much rather get them from a donut shop than a grocery store."

Hung up when I saw the sign for Laguna Vista. Now I just had to find Santa Isabel Blvd. Based on this trip, I'm now convinced Bono was in South Texas when he wrote "Where the Streets Have No Name." There aren't street signs ANYWHERE. I came to the first stop light in Laguna Vista, and took a right. It wasn't until three blocks later that I received confirmation from a small sign hidden behind a tree that I'd actually guessed right and was on Santa Isabel Blvd.

A couple of blocks down, I saw Daylight Donuts. It was now drizzling, but despite the weather, I jumped out of the car with a smile on my face. My sweet tooth was about to be satisfied. I walked in and again, saw a restaurant and a bakery case. Only this one was filled with miscellaneous cakes and pastries...but no donuts. The lady behind the counter asked if she could help me.

"Yeah, I'd like to get some donuts, please." I figured I'd start with the basics and work my way up to the apple fritter.

"Sorry, doll," she smacked like Flo from Alice, "we don't sell donuts."

"Um. Is this not Daylight Donuts?" I asked trying to keep my tone somewhere between appearing genuinely confused and a snarky bitch pointing out the obvious.

"Naw, it is," smack, smack, "but we ha'nt sold donuts fer 'bout two years now. We're a deli. Just never bothered t'change the name."

I stormed out to the car angry at the Daylight Donuts trickery, and even more angry my mom was right. I should have called before I went there. "Um, yes, hi. I'm looking to buy some donuts, and see the name of your fine establishment is Daylight Donuts. Do you in fact sell donuts? I mean, you're not a deli or anything, are you?"

Once in the car, I called my mom. "D'ya find your fritter?" she asked, cheerfully.

"NO. Apparently, Daylight Donuts, is. in fact. a DELI. Just never bothered to change the name. Seriously, what's a girl gotta do to get a goddamn fritter around here?!?"

This just upset my mom, because she refuses to acknowledge her daughter is, linguistically-speaking, the Dread Pirate Taylor. I apologized for my profanity, and my mom reminded me that if "not findin' your fritter is this upsetting, you've got a LONG road ahead, young lady."

I took a deep breath, as my mom was right. I'd become a woman possessed. So I drove through the rain to the grocery store in Port Isabel, found donuts, and yes...an apple fritter. For the record, it was more like a honey bun with some apple chunks in it. But even though it wasn't all that sweet, the victory of completing my mission most certainly was.