Member-only story
The United States Is A Bag Of Fritos
When my grandma moved from New York back to her native Costa Rica, she missed Fritos. She didn’t know what they were called…just that they were these slightly curly corn chips she couldn’t find in the Megasuper in Turrucares.
She would look every time she visited a new grocery store. She tried a few local brands, but none compared. Some were too curly, and the texture was off. Some were covered in a spicy dust. Some were cheese or BBQ-flavored.
For years, the mystery of the corn chip eluded her, until I, her American granddaughter, came home with a large Subway sandwich I had bought from the mall. We shared the sandwich as we watched Costa Rica play Panama, and I opened the bag of Fritos that came with the combo.
My grandma loves soccer, and it was the only time I have seen her distracted from a Costa Rica game. She’s usually yelling at the screen, calling the young men lazy and slow. This time, however, she was enthralled by the corn chip.
“Where did you find these?” she demanded.
“They’re Fritos.”
“I could never find these here.” She took the bag and flattened out the wrinkles like it was a map to the final resting place of the Virgin Mother.
“They have them at Subway,” I explained. After that day, I went on a quest to find…
