Seguro

I ate lunch today at a quaint Spanish/Dominican restaurant on 24th street. My plate consisted of arroz, frijoles, y bistec.

The ordering started off smoothly. She didn’t speak much English. I picked up on this right away because she called me “papi” and was talking to me in Spanish.

I started strong. I asked her how she was doing.

“Como esta?”
“Bien, papi. y tu?”
“Eh, seguro.”

I don’t know why I said “seguro.” It was almost a knee-jerk reaction. How are you? Umm. I’m safe and secure. Admittedly, it sounded fly.

“Quiero albondigas con arroz y frijoles. Amarillo arroz. Y un diet coke.”

Then the ordering swerved. She could tell I didn’t really speak Spanish. Maybe it was the five minutes it took to say my order.

“No yellow, only white. Eh, no diet coke. Coke, ok? Y no albondigas.”

So that’s how I ended up with pepper bistec with white rice instead of yellow and black beans. And a regular coke instead of diet.

I got up to pay, pointed to the front, and asked the waitress, “Do I pay the bill up there?”

“Double dare?” Obviously, I was speaking English too fast for her. I slowed down and she picked up on “bill.”

“Wait a minute the bill; wait a minute the bill,” she implored.

I held out my hands like the horse whisperer. I made placating motions with my hands and said, “Claro que si. Seguro. Seguro. I’ll wait for the bill.”