My new Spanish name is Mercedes. Accept it and love it. I often go out with a blonde Florida chica whom shall now we known as Carlota. And every day here, I´ve decided, should be an experience and I should try something that I have not yet tried before, this is how lessons are learned right?
Well a couple days I ago I learned two very important lessons: (1) Mexican restaurants are kitchy cheaters and can not be trusted and (2) If you happen upon a he/she/it talking to his/her/itself, it´s best just to stop and stare and take pictures.
Story number one takes place in a lovely Mexican restaurant Carlota and I happened across while wasting time waiting for our napping directors to return to work. In theory this was a good idea as we´ve been craving spice, in actuality, it was good for not much more than a laugh.
From the ceiling hung a full sized VW bug and the seats at the tables were actual car seats torn from who knows where, the menues were on wheels. Photo op, photo op, photo op. We ordered quesidillas and chicken flautas. The woman warned us that it might not be much food (I think that´s what she said) but we didn´t listen.
She went to a little glass kiosk in the wall and pulled out the smallest tortilla I´ve seen in my life, put a piece of cheese and a piece of onion in it and fried it. We got two huge plates and enough food to feed an anorexic doll. Carlota literally licked her plate clean hoping to get every last drop. I laughed and took pictures (all the while crying inside from my lack of fulfillment.) Damned Spanish Mexicans and their curious ways.
Post "lunch" we headed toward Chueca in search of real food when Carlota discovered a gem in the distance. A man/woman/thing sat across the square talking to his/her/its foot. We tried not to stare at first but soon it was yelling at its right foot in a very animated manor. We were too far away to hear so we supplied our own dialogue,
"You´ve been a very naughty foot. You make me angry foot. Bad bad foot."
Then it would turn nice
"Oh my sweet foot, how I love thee. You make me so happy foot. You are my favorite foot. I would go nowhere without you."
Then, as if it were simply playing good cop AND bad cop with its foot, it would begin to get angry again,
"Why do you never listen foot? See how the other foot just sits there like a good foot should. Bad bad foot."
Fists were shaking, nostrils were flared, this was OBVIOUSLY a very bad foot.
By now we were crying we were laughing so hard and every person who passed by would do a double take at the foot and IT. I turned my back for one moment and when I turned aroud it had put its shoes on and donned a large black glove and cane which it was now waving around dangerously. We tried to get closer and it took off. We think it was a woman. A woman with a very bad foot.
I´m certainly grateful for obedient extremities. Ah yes, lessons learned.
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