Monday, November 12, 2012

Lonely Lunches & Blue-Eyed Devils

 Coarse language ahead...

"Can I sleep for like five minutes?"
"No. We either go now or not at all."
"Fine, let me get ready. Where are my shoes?"

Against my own wishes, I went shopping today.
My suggestion to go, of course.
It's colder than a motherfucker out there, guys.
It's noon and it's only 49°F. In Texas... in November.

I insisted on going after reading an Aldi ad from last week. I said I'd buy stuff for the person who drove me there. And I sure did. Thanks mom.

We walked around the modern-coloured store with his polished concrete floor and shelves stocked with company-branded products and things from Germany like Pumpernickel or Grummershizchtebelgraz. After getting a few supplies and food, we checked out; the total came to $20.

Leaving the store, my mom said she was hungry, so she drove to a fast-food restaurant on Main St. After we had ordered and sat down, there was a guy sitting next to us. He was wearing what could be described as a vomit-colored sweater, like the kind you see wealthy men in. He had black hair, a thin beard, and was wearing blue-jeans on this cold day. During the whole time we were there, he had his back to us. He was looking out of the window onto Main St., watching the traffic go by, probably wondering why these three people had decided to sit so close to him.

I noticed it he had his back to us because I saw his leg up on his knee, left-on-right. He was wearing black shoes. Nice touch. No, but really, he never looked at us, more he had his back to us as if he was too good to make an awkward eye-contact. As you can see, I'm not too awkward for anything. He soon left and was replaced by what the Chinese fear: a blue-eyed devil.

As I looked behind me to a row of windows, I saw a navy blue Dodge Ram drive into the black parking lot. It parked and I turned back to the table. The man came in, grey-haired, wearing a light blue shirt, a baseball cap, and blue-jeans just as the backer had on. My mom and I were speaking in Spanish, and I noticed him glancing over to us several times during the conversation. Finally, as I threw the trash away and my mom refilled her drink, I walked in front of him to join my mom at the fountain.

We walked out together, noticing his glances as we walked out of the restaurant. I've never seen anyone look so many times at me during a Spanish conversation before. I felt like he was saying in his head, "So many goddamn Mexicans. I wish fucking Romney won so we could deport these motherfuckers."

Of course, not I'm implying or stating that he was saying these things, but he was an older white gentleman, the category most courted by Governor Romney. Just sayin'. No ill will, because even friends have told me worse things their mothers have said... Fort Worth *cough* *cough* *cough*.