07 September 2009

Ariel : Date Night

I don't know how many miles I walk on average per week...Maybe 30? Working at a restaurant alone, maybe 3, per night? I don't know...And I don't know how many dishes Ariel has washed during his time in the restaurant biz, either. While I pace back and forth checking in on your mother's crab cakes, Ariel cleans the ceramic and the silver. Every 4 hours or so he would come over and request a coke refill sin hielo and a sprite refill for the line cook con hielo. I didn't really talk to him until the last day he worked. The next morning he was going back to Mexico on a jet plane...in the wake of his mother's death there were some things that needed to be taken care of at home. He asked me why I wasn't married. What is this? A taxista conversation in Cali?! And told me that when he got back, that we were going to have a beer together, and that it didn't matter that I was much taller than him. I wish I could describe his voice/timbre/rhythm of speech for you...

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