The Manrilla Blog | Life. Art. Religion. Culture.

As usual, based on my funnier-than-life, true life events. Enjoy.

He was starving. Two hours in the gym last night left him famished. His stomach was growling in its empty protest. Despite it being noontime, the diner was relatively empty. He stepped inside and sat at an empty chair at the counter. The busboy approached him, asking if he wanted anything.

“You take ‘a something to drink?” the man asked.

“Yes. Coffee, please.”

The man stared back at him. “Hablas Español?”

“Sí, yo hablo.” How in the hell did he know that?

“You speak ‘a Spanish?”

What the hell?, he thought to himself. “Yeah, I speak Spanish.”

“¿Quieres café, no?”

“Sí, café.” I’m speakin’ Spanish to you, man!

“Okay, coffee. One moment.”

Weird. He took a book out of his backpack and sat at the counter reading, waiting for the waitress.

“Café, señor.” said the busboy.

“Gracias.”

“No problem.”

Did this guy not speak Spanish? He shrugged his shoulders and continued reading. Engrossed, he missed the waitress’s first query.

“Can I get’cha somethin’, hun?”

“Oh, yeah. Sure. Um – do you have turkey bacon?”

“Nope. Just turkey sausage.”

“Okay, I’ll have three eggs, soft scrambled, with home fries, wheat toast and an order of your turkey sausage.”

“’Kay. Comin’ up.” She scurried off to the kitchen to turn in his order.

He went back to his reading. After a few moments the busboy returned to warm his coffee up.

“¿Quieres más café?”

“Sí, por favor.”

“You wan’ s’more cream?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

“De nada.”

What in…, never mind. He kept reading but he was beginning to get annoyed now.

Startled by the busboy’s silent approach, he jerked his head out of his book.

“Huevos con pápas.” said the busboy. He seemed pleased and happy to have someone to speak Spanish with.

“Gracias.”

“You wann’a ketchup?”

“No. Está bien. Gracias.”

“¿Algo más?” asked the busboy eagerly.

“No, joven. Gracias por todo.”

“Okay, sir. Enjoy your meal.”

He ate his meal in silence. Was he playing at something? This made no freakin’ sense!

“How’s ya’ eggs, hun?”

He looked up to see the large face of the waitress looking him square in the eye. “You a lawya’ or somethin’? I see you comin’ in a lot, all dressed up.”

“No,” he chuckled. “I just work for a lawfirm. No one important.” She smiled a toothy smile back at him. He swallowed hard and put his face down and shoveled food in his mouth. Gotta find a new breakfast spot. Locals are too friendly, he laughed to himself. In truth, he loved it here. Diners were his favorite places to eat. The waitress sauntered back over and left his check there. “You’s have ‘a good one, okay hun?”

“Thanks, Miss. You, too. Happy holidays.”

Grabbing his coat, he paid his bill at the counter.

“Adios, señor.” The busboy had a big grin on his face.

“Sí, nos vemos.”

“Haffa’ nice holiday. How you say “feliz navidad”, no?”

“Yeah, man. Merry Christmas.” With his bag on his shoulder, we stumbled out, bewildered and smiling. “Merry freakin’ Christmas”, he mumbled under his breath to no one in particular.