What the Heck is That?

The other day I went out to lunch at a favorite Mexican hangout.  While I enjoyed my enchilada, rice, and beans, a group of men entered the restaurant.  One, with a loud penetrating voice, spoke with authority, and sat in the corner opposite me, with his back to the windows.  As the others wandered over with their trays, they sat, for the most part, orientated toward him.  One sat at the table facing him, the others took the surrounding tables located ninety degrees to his. 

Each table had four chairs, but these men sat two to a table, and never side-by-side.  All took part in the conversation, but the man in the corner decided the topics: if a subject wasn’t to his interest, discussion shifted to one that was.  From what I could tell, the men were welders, or at least had significant training in that discipline.  The man in the corner regaled them with stories of jobs he had worked in faraway locations, for which he had received large sums of money.  The others asked him questions, or added an anecdote of their own.

The last of the men to arrive sat down with his back to the man in the corner.  Like a dragon who has just glimpsed movement among his treasures, the man in the corner exclaimed, “What the heck is that?”

The new arrival turned around, and allowed their (mostly) fearless leader to see his plate.  “It’s a bean tostada,” he said.  Indeed, the cooks had been generous with the lettuce, piling it high atop his fried tortilla and refried beans.  I noticed that all the other men had ordered dry burritos, wrapped in paper, so they could pick them up and eat them.  The man in the corner blinked, and his eyes were wide as he shook his head at the member of his crew who had dared sit with his back to him, and order something different.

When I eat at this restaurant, I always plan on bringing half of my plate home.  While it’d be easy to eat it all, I know I’d feel uncomfortably full later on.  So the next day, as I made up my plate of leftovers for lunch, I piled some shredded lettuce atop the remaining half of my enchilada, as I had eaten all the lettuce their cooks had generously supplied.  To this, I added some fresh salsa, so it resembled the meal I had enjoyed the day previous.  Then, as I had cooked some up the night before, I added a serving of broccoli.

I know that I'm different, that I don’t fit the mold of modern society.  Like the broccoli, my unique outlook, interests, and lifestyle often clash with the norm.  So what?  Others can think what they will. It’s my responsibility to be myself, to like myself, to respect myself, and to hold true to my beliefs and goals. 

Even if someone occasionally turns toward me, and with wide eyes, asks, “What the heck is that?”

Dragon Dave


P.S.  "Relax, it's only lettuce."