Speaking of Spying

It's interesting that the one things that drew the most interest when I started this blog was the whole spying thing, by which I mean you can listen in on strangers talking (sometimes about you) about something. They assume, because of how you look, you don't know what they're saying. Little do they know . . .

You know the rest (hilarity ensues)

For whatever reason I had been waiting to post on my favorite spy story, which happened in Boston. Well yesterday I had another incident happen, so today you get the Boston one and the yesterday one, both good ones, I think.

So I'm standing on the T (subway) in Boston just minding my own business, staring out the window and daydreaming. Suddenly I realize there is a mother and daughter standing across from me talking in Spanish. I decide to tune in:

Mother: Just talk to him
Daughter (15 years old): What am I going to say?
M: Anything, just something, if that's how you feel.
D: No-ooo mom!
M: Well that way nothing will happen.

And it hits me: I am the topic of conversation here. A few things went through my mind: an ego boost, nerves, and a question—what do I do about this?

After some thought, I ask the two, in English, "So, where are you guys from?"

"Oh, Ecuador," the mother says smiling. The daughter just kind of smiles too.

"Oh really? Cool." A little pause to let it all build.

"I'm from Guatemala," I drop it.

Daughter goes red and mother's mouth goes agape.

"So you know Spanish?"
"Oh yeah," big smile.

That was followed by a few awkward minutes of quiet, the daughter just about wanted to die. They got off at their next stop.


So that was a good one, here is a bad one. The most recent one:

So Mindy and I go to Chipotle to get some tacos. We get to the counter to pay and we do and we take our food to our table. Once there, Mindy realizes we ordered a side of guacamole and we didn't get it.

So I go back to the counter and ask this guy (who is hispanic and totally gay, by the way, as is everyone back behind the counter (hispanic, not gay)) if maybe we left our guac behind, that we didn't get it.

He tells the other hispanic girl to prep a fresh order of guac.

"Oh you don't need to do that, I think we just left it on the counter," I say, trying to help you know.

He smiles at me and goes, really nice, "Oh it's no problem."

Then he turns to the girl and, in Spanish, goes, "Ya me estan dando pajas," which is a vulgar way to say "This guy is full of shit."

So my face goes red, I can feel this, and wait until my guac is served. I pick it up off the counter and go, in Spanish, "No es paja," which is akin to "It's not bullshit."

I guess he was assuming a few things here: that we didn't pay for it and wanted some free guac (which fuck you man, who does that) and that I didn't speak Spanish.

So I'm pissed off now. I go back to my seat and am fuming, telling Mindy the lowdown. We eat and later on we run out of Guac. Mindy hints that some salsa would be great since we still have chips. So I go up to the counter to the hispanic girl and ask for an order of salsa. The huge menu says it's 1.25, so I take out two bucks while she readies it. I get my order and she goes "Is too twenty."

I'm kind of surprised but am like, ok, so I take out another one, pay, and go sit down.

I tell Mindy the menu must be old, out of date. I look at my ticket and notice that it says "Chips and guacamole - $2," which is what it says on that huge menu I was basing myself on.

So now I see a chance to really be a dick so I go back and tell the girl she charged me for the wrong thing. I struggle to understand what she's saying, her English is not good, but finally I tell her I just want my money back, the difference anyway. She gives it to me and gives me a little fake smile that makes me wish I could slap it off.

Chipotle? I'm done with that particular store, they've lost my business for life.


So in a nutshell that's the spying game.