Race Traders

Wife and I went to an upper scale Mexican restaurant the other night called Abuelos. We hit it frequently as it has a nonsmoking bar area that doesn't allow children (if that doesn't describe heaven, then I don't want to go). We're on a first name basis with the bartender. He's a white guy in his early twenties...we'll call him Eugene. When he came to take our order, he confessed he was having a really stressful shift. We asked why, and he replied "I'm having trouble dealing with 15 people who don't speak English." I naturally assumed he meant the kitchen staff. I while later I noted I was mistaken. Instead, there was a large table of about 15 people, presumably a large Mexican family outing, speaking Spanish. I couldn't help but chuckle inside at the irony of a Mexican family having trouble being understood in a restaurant that touts their authentic Mexican cuisine. I'm not taking anything from the restaurant...it is very tasty (in addition to having the kid segregated, nonsmoking bar area).

However, tt was not as funny as a tangental experience we had a few months ago. Wife and I again eating out...this time grabbing a quick bite at Qdoba before a movie. Qdoba, for those that aren't familiar, is very similar to Chipotles. Both are kind of a Mexican equivolent of Subway. There were two people behind the counter assembling food: a middle-aged white woman and a middle-aged Mexican man. My wife and I both placed our burrito orders. The man seemed to be a new empolyee-in-training. I'm guessing this because halfway through making my burrito the woman looks over at him, sighs, and says, "No, Javier. You're doing it wrong again!" I don't think my unrefined palet would have detected a diferrence.

In what a bizarre melting pot we live.