“Hey, How is it going.”, she asked me.
“It’s good.”, said I.
“You shouldn’t mix your drinks like that.”, she said.
That was probably my first conversation in half an hour. Then we continued to dance. When I was hungry enough to eat a horse, and coincidentally, that happened at the same time when most people realized they needed to get back home, I made an exit.
“No foo, you just said ‘Where are here!’ It’s ‘Donde estamos?’”, said the girl.
“Yo, hombre. You tell her that I’m right.” And he glared at me.
I was the hombre. Well, I was once mistaken for the lawn guy, asked whether I was Mexican a couple times, and my friends do tease me a bit about it. A visit to Chipotle nearly convinced me of the Indian-Latino connection. But that’s a different story. “Yo no se espanyol, homie.”, I said and we had a good laugh. The rest of the ride, and after a long time, I enjoyed a light hearted 20 minutes of jibber.