Special: Eggs and Chorizo

It is breakfast time and walking into the restaurant, the first smell that impacts you is the smell of all the food that is cooked. The first thing that comes to my mind is man I hope I don't smell like food when I get out of here! You’re eyes are immediately drawn to the colorful chairs with many authentic Mexican figures on them, such as las catrinas, mariachis and others. I sit in one of the corners so I can have a better view of everyone that is there. The waitress comes up to me and asks me what I would like to drink so I quickly order an orange juice.

My eyes are first drawn to a group of five people sitting in uniform. One of them is playing a video game on his phone while the other ones are chatting away. The waitress comes back with my orange juice and asks if I am reading to order, not having even looked at the menu yet I told her I needed more time.

Sitting close by is a little old man sitting by himself reading the newspaper with his to go boxes ready in a bag next to him. The look in his eyes seem like he is a very sweet old man and I want to go sit with him so he won’t be alone, but I don't have to nerve to do that. He leaves almost 10 minutes after I get there being entertained only by the article he is reading.

Throughout the restaurant you can hear all the background noise coming from the kitchen, dishes clanking, some music, and every now and then the steam can be seen from whatever they are cooking. The waitress comes back and takes my order of eggs and chorizo, the special they had that day. She looks at me with confusion, because she can see all the scribbles I am writing on my napkin.

There is one older couple sitting side by side, they look to appear around their 50’s, holding hands. A second couple another elderly couple, maybe around their 60’s, sit in front of each other and they are chatting away like there is no tomorrow; smiling and laughing every now and then. It makes me really think about how special it might feel to have that one person you have always loved and over the years, there’s still so much left to talk about.

The group of five people in uniform leave, while a group of three a mother and her two daughters, I assume, because they look very much alike. The hostess greets them with a smile on her face saying “Buenos Dias”, and leads them to their table.

There are five waitresses, each walking around busily attending their customers. Towards the back of the restaurant where the kitchen is, you can see two of them singing together with the song that is playing in the kitchen, which to me is pretty amusing because they remind me of myself. As I watch them, one of the waitresses comes out from the kitchen and appears to be dancing, moving her hips from side to side as one leg goes back and then the other; however, she wasn't dancing, she was rubbing her shoes on the carpet that is right in front kitchen entrance, and I laugh at myself.

When I finish paying, I leave and I soon as I walk out the door, I can smell the stench of food that remains in my hair and clothes, but it’s alright because the food was worth it.

The Warrior Sanctuary

The weather has been so uncertain. Rain, no rain? At least it’s not hot outside. Upon walking to the entrance, where the automatic doors open, I looked next to me and asked my friend is this where the warriors hang out? My friend smiled and laughed. Greeted by an older gentleman with a red vest on, was a badge with his name listed under the word “volunteer”. My friend and I came to this setting filled with veterans and He assured me this is a great place to partake in “people watching”.

As my friend and I were walking in I noticed how busy the lobby was. The smell of fresh popcorn fills the air. I saw they have a popcorn machine like one you would see at a movie theater popping away in the back corner of the lobby. There ahead at a permanent desk are a crowd of several men, all I notice are the volunteers, standing conversing. I watch what seems at first to be volunteers conversing, providing most are wearing red vests, it quickly becomes apparent they are helping a variety of men and women. Right away I notice a very strong friendly, family-like atmosphere.

My friend leads me to a group of older men standing around. He advises me to watch these older men interact with each other. From a distance I hear one of the men asking if anyone knew what the hell his medicine was. Watching all of them take their turn looking at this pill bottle in deep thought. Then one gentleman says, “Man, you better check that one out, these doctors get you losing your damn mind”. The original man who posed the question of what type of medication he had in his hand replies “My mind has been gone for years” and they all started laughing in unison.

I had my mind made up about what type of people I would see all older men and woman. It was a surprise I saw many young men and woman, which I did not expect. Here you have the older men with the wars they fought, units they were in, awards they were given listed on pins stuck to their hats. On the other side of the spectrum was a younger generation whom are dressed in casual wear, most of which are sporting tattoos. This is my generation, men and women my age. I notice one young man with a prosthetic limb. He appears to not be any older than 25. I speculate what happened to him, he walks with smoothness. Not a normal gate that I have seen it’s more developed.

My friend tells me to “hold tight” he walks to his appointment. Did he just speak to me in military terms? I am just sitting here taking in all the different types of people. I do notice I do not see any children. No one is eating any food. Most of the people are just sitting in a waiting room. I look back towards the desk with the older men wearing red vests. There appears to have been a shift change. There are now 3 different men that I did not see before hand. They are all volunteers as well. I see a younger woman pushing an elderly man in a wheelchair through the front doors. She is pushing with only one hand while resting her right hand on his frail right shoulder. There are several people sitting around me holding numbers and waiting to be called for their appointments. One young woman seems frustrated she looks at her number then at her watch. She then looks at the monitor where the numbers are being shown. Right next to her is an older gentleman just sitting, staring at the wall. He looks happy. Everyone that I have seen including the volunteers seems to be happy. The lady who keeps looking at her watch is the first person I notice to appear frustrated.

The young woman who is pushed some elderly man through the door way has stopped at the desk. She and the elderly man are talking to the volunteers. The old man looks confused, the lady then gets near his right ear and speaks to him in a nice manner. He looks up at her smiles, nods his head in agreement and says ok. She then repositions her right hand on his shoulder and her left hand on the wheel chair and off they went into a door the volunteer opens and closes for them two.

“Would you like some popcorn sweetheart”, a lady volunteer asks me breaking my thought process. I accept I told her and ask how much does it cost. The older lady laughs and says, “I couldn’t take money from you”. I feel a warm acceptance. I look over the lady’s shoulder and see a familiar face. My friend is engaged in a conversation with two other gentlemen. One is older in his 70’s while the other is younger in his 20’s. My friend says something I can’t make out and they start laughing hysterically. I meet eyes with my friend and he says hi and nods his head in a yes motion. He makes his way over to me. Who are those guy do you know them, I asked. He says, “I have no idea who they are”. There seems to be an unspoken brother in arms code amongst the people who frequent. People have their own unique feelings, emotions, stories, experiences, yet all come together in a common place. A place where warriors hang out.

Volleyball Game

The main event of Lobo Middle School on Saturday is the final day of the season’s first volleyball tournament. Today the eighth grade girls are playing for a chance at third place. Entering the air conditioned gym the dominate sound is that of volleyballs hitting the glossed wooden floor as the girls of both team practice.  There is no price of admissions which seems odd for during last basketball season in the winter of 2013 there was, I wonder if the school has adopted a new policy of not charging the family members and supporters of the athletes. Approaching the bleachers to take a seat I notice there is not a great deal of homemade posters to cheer on the girls, only two including mine to cheer on my athlete and a mother who we'll call Mrs. Spirit. Looking around the bleachers, the majority of the spectators appear to be adults of Hispanic ethnicity, there is a lack of supporters of middle school age cheering on their peers, I wonder if its due to the fact that it is nine in the morning on a Saturday or if it’s because it is one of the first games of the season.  There is not much discussion going on amongst the supporters and the little that I can hear is done so in small groups with the people either speaking Spanish or a mix of Spanish and English.

The game is beginning, against Lobo Team and Orange Uniform Team. Those girls not playing on the court  are not sitting together as team but rather in small clusters on two or three – have they yet to bond as a team or is this the socially practice of adolescent girls in keeping with cliques.  Mrs. Spirit and my party of my parents and myself appear to be cheering the loudest and most frequent whether it be to encourage the girl or applaud them on a good play. Of the other audience members though not as loud and frequent as Mrs. Poster and I, it appears that parents of the Lobo team are cheering more than Orange Uniform Team parents even though Orange won the first game.  As the games goes on I see Mangers from both team are on their phones. The Coaches of both teams are acting in different manners – Orange Team’s coach is middle aged woman who is scolding her girls on mistakes (she can be heard from where I sit across the court) while Lobo Team’s coach is a young adult and she appears to be correcting the girls (she is demonstrating proper bump technique, I can barely hear her from across the court), I’m curious if this is because she is closer to the player's age.

Team Lobo wins the second game. Game three, the deciding match, commences. Now both team’s spectators are reacting more vocally to the mistakes and points being made of each team.  Team Lobo wins, 15 to 8.  Orange Team shakes Team Lobo hand and then go off to what I assume is to discuss the game and find their parents on the bleachers. Team Lobo is jolly, presented with the trophy they are exclaiming loudly amongst themselves and all are smiling, all girls seem to be interacting with one another. They are taking pictures as team. The main method of taking photos are phones, with another parent and me using digital cameras.  I notice as I am around the girls waiting for my athlete to get her gym bag that the girls are forming little groups again and are speaking mainly English. My athlete with her stuff collected ask if she can go on the bus with the team rather than ride home with us. Maybe she wants to rejoice with the team.