The times they are a changing
Mood:  mischievious
Topic: Southern Spanish

 One of our first and most loyal customers is an El Salvadorian immigrant. One of his businesses’ is an Mexican grocery that was beside a beauty salon in a small strip mall. I would often repair his truck behind the string of stores.

 One summer’s day I was there and the AC unit for the building was not working, so all the businesses had their doors open. It was hot and steamy, and three or four of his employees were unloading the truck. It kinda reminded me of when I was in the U S Navy Seabees in Puerto Rico. So we were all working and sweating, and I was thinking back on old times, and friends and how some things had changed and others stayed the same.

 My battalion had spent several years in the Caribbean and we had a fairly large number of men from Puerto Rico, a couple from Mexico and even one from Argentina. Any time we went out on town I always tried to speak what broken Spanish I had picked up, and every time one of them would give me grief about my "Southern Spanish".

 Eventually I worked it into a little routine that went something like this. "K Posso A-Meeger!" (this is said while smiling and waving big like Gomer Pyle) "Poor favor duce Budweiser’s" (this said while holding up 2 fingers). They all howled with laughter the night I debuted it in Papa Joes, and for the next 4 years anytime I encountered one of them I heard "K Posso A-Meeger"!

 Well they got the truck unloaded well before I got that fuel pump mounted and things got quite as I was left with my memories. It was then I noticed that I could hear parts of the conversation from inside the beauty shop. ....taking over the whole county.....swarming all over the neighborhood......Gonna run us all out of our jobs....... ...cant even speak English....etc etc etc. 

  All of a sudden I felt it, someone staring holes right in me. I looked up and saw her standing in the doorway. She had came outside to smoke let me tell you she moved real quite for a big gal. Yeah she was one of those, you know the type, big hair, massive cleavage, and way to much makeup.  I mean she was probably very pretty in high school but lets just say that childbirth has not been kind to her. So I look up, make eye contact and nod, it’s really to hot to speak and I didn’t feel like making the effort. But she’s all worked up and isn’t going to let it go that easy. It’s not totally her fault. I'm sort of dark skinned (Indian on my father’s side they say), I had about 3 day’s growth of beard on my face and I was moderately dirty from installing a fuel pump on an Isuzu NPR. I mean truth be told I may have drawn the same conclusion if I was in her place.

 But I would not have asked in that haughty tone of voice "So have you been in my country very long"? I don’t know what possessed me; usually I'm left saying something really stupid and only thinking of a good response later. But sometimes I guess God just guides us and before I knew it I had answered in the most perfect Southern Spanish you ever heard, "See Seen Ya Reater". She just threw down her butt and stalked back inside. I guess its like they say, some days your the windshield and some days the bug.