Language Barriers

There is a little Carl's Jr. right across the street from where I work in LA, surrounded by the city, bums and various characters that give me plenty to write about. Today I made my way across the street, ordered a diet coke and a side salad and proceeded to commence my lunch. As I was sitting there I happened to make eye contact with a small Mexican man who standing strait as an arrow might (and I say might) have come up to my belly button. He had to have been as round as he was tall, and he had the biggest lips I have ever seen. Honestly. I couldn't help my mind from conjuring the image of the frog on Thumbelina.

My first mistake was making eye contact, as soon as our eyes connected he stopped mid stride turned around and gave me a full once over, his eyes becoming very swishy. I wanted to laugh at his "suaveness" and in an attempt to hide it I made my second mistake-a half smile out of politeness. Working in the city I should know not to look at people and especially not to smile, but it's against my nature and something that I'm working on. Because of it I have had some awesome conversations and the result of this mistake today made a priceless conversation that I wouldn't have traded for anything.

After grinding to a halt on his way to the soda machine and turning completely around he began to work his magic on me. In a thick spanish accent he began with.

Him: "Hey beautiful lady... I like jor es-smile." He said as his eyebrows wiggling wildly.
Me: laughing, "Um... thanks."
Him: Whas shur name preety lady?"
Me: Now this is where I draw the line, no personal information that could link me to anything. "I'm sorry, I'm married." I say, pointing to my ring. Usually this statement works well enough to shy away any unwanted "suiters."
Him: "Oh, ok, hey Mary." He says with a triumphant smile from gleaning some information.
Me: Well this is awkward. I now have to explain that I didn't in fact give him my name, but that I'm spoken for. "No, my name isn't Mary, I'm married." I say, pointing at my ring again.
Him: Densely, "Oh. Is jor husband coming to mee(t) you?" He asks as though maybe I'll come sit with him if Jarom isn't.
Me: "Um... yeah." I say lying.
Him: "Ok, well, I eh-like jor beautiful es-smile." He tries one more time.
Me: "Thanks." I say as I try to ignore the further conversation he's trying to carry on. Finally, after standing their awkwardly staring at me he walks to the machine and fills his drink. As he walks past me I look at my iPod and try to ignore the smoldering look he is trying to pass over on me.

Sorry Don Juan, no thanks. I am Mary.