“Great. So they are not going to clean the plane.” Young mother, holding toddler, upon hearing the inbound aircraft was delayed. (They cleaned the plane.)

“Watch. It’s $50 now. In 10 minutes, it will be $100.” Maskless man commenting on the price of available boarding group upgrades. (It remained $50.)

When I moved to Denver in the mid-’90s, we’d frequent a hole-in-the-wall that served burritos and tacos near the University of Denver campus.

If the line was long, as in out-the-door long, we’d yell our order from the street and they never got it wrong. Seating was hard to come by, so our orders often were to-go.

The lines seemed to be guaranteed, so it really became a matter of how much patience and stamina we had to stand in line for a hard-to-find burrito — that you’d hold in your hands. (?!)

In 1996, Chipotle opened its second location on Colorado Boulevard, and it felt 10 times bigger, and the before we knew it locations were popping up all over the Denver area.

Now that Chipotle is everywhere it’s nowhere near as special. But every so often I’ll get some tacos or a burrito and it will be really close to the quality and taste of those days in 1995. It’s rare. Still, Chipotle is in my semi-regular rotation.

This week I ate at a Chipotle in the eighth state outside of Colorado, and like I do every time, I thought about the tiny burrito place on Evans.