He ordered the pollo asado burrito, I ordered the carnitas burrito. I hate how they make you say “macho” if you want the red sauce and onions on it.
We sit down and they bring us our food. We are talking about things you’d never expect us to be talking about and I am absent-mindedly eating my dinner.
But then I tune in a little and it dawns on me that I may be eating a bacon burrito. If such a thing even exists. Now I’m paying closer attention and I am not happy to find that it was not a carnitas burrito and even less happy to find out that I have no idea what it actually *is*.
I call the waitress over and poke at a tube of crispy meat and ask what it is. She says something that sounds like Lupitas and I say I actually was hoping for carnitas. Since that is what I ordered. She says she is sorry (at least I think that is what she said). I am curious still, so I ask her what it was that I was eating.
This is when I learned that the face one makes when they don’t know how to say something in english is the same face one would make when they are afraid to tell you what you just ate. I asked hopefully, “Is it pork?” and she smiles and says yes in an overly excited way.
I tell her I want the carnitas and then I pray it’s not carnitas and spit.
Filed under: Uncategorized
