My Darling Mexican Telephone.

This morning when I awoke to a telephone call I realized I need to take a class to learn how to speak Spanish fluently. Let me back track...

Two in a half years ago my friend and I made the decision to pack up a 15 foot hauler and move from Chicago to LA. Lou, the cat, sat on the dashboard smoking his Camel Lights telling us we were making a great decision. Ania and I were skeptical. Four days later we arrived. We unpacked the truck as soon as we landed and headed to the bar, for a well deserved ice cold Pabst Blue Ribbon, or twenty. It wasn't our intent but it happened. The first bar we came across was exploding with music and laughter. It was this thumping dance music so we thought this should be entertaining a Monday night and a raging dance club. Nope, we rounded the small entry way to see 2 customers sitting in the flourescent lit smoke filled bar with a bartender, male, with his feather boa and cowboy boots dancing up a storm.
"Hey girrrrrls", the bartender said as he did this twirl into a ta-da stance arms out.
We stayed for a round or two laughing with this man and his two man 'Too Wong Foo' following. He then told us of another bar next door that was supposed to be great. We said thanks and decided to check it out. We were greeted by the Boston native bartender who refused to let us pay for any of the ungodly amounts of fermented beverages we consumed. At the end of the night we looked, crosseyed, at the kind man behind the bar said something that resembled goodbye, layed down a gracious tip(3beans, a dirty kleenex, and a wood chip that looked like Abe Lincoln), stepped outside where we took turns pushing each other home in the shopping cart.
The next morning when I awoke in the bathtub, I realized our travel phone didn't take to the overnight bathing so well. Lou tried to fix it but he was pretty preoccupied with making breakfast. So I walked over to Ania in the sleeping bag on the kichen floor and woke her up and told her it was time to get supplies. On our way to the bar the previous night we had noticed a .98cent store.

THE LIST
1. Toilet Paper
2. Soap
3. Disposible Camera
4. Styrofoam cooler
5. Beer
6. Bread
7. Cheese Slices
8. Bananas
9. Ice
10. Telephone

We had turned on all the utilities before we arrived. So after a long day of playing on the mechanical unicorn out front of the store we finally headed in to purchase the supplies. They had everthing except the beer, so we checked out payed(2 beans, 1 Clue Candlestick, 3 out of five, winner takes all, games of rock scissors paper... we won). Stopped by the King got the beer and headed home. We put the house together 1 cooler in the kitchen by the stove, supplies inside. One disposable camera on the mantle. One bundle of bananas on the breakfast nook. One telephone plugged into the wall. We sat and waited for our first phone call.

Six months later the phone rings. We had long forgotten about the phone, and it's obvious lack for making sound, and couldn't remember where we had last seen it. Lou answered it and said he couldn't make out who it was. I took the call anyhow, and this is what I heard...

"Domingo, Domingo, Domingo...machaca, por favor, ademas verdes tipicos" or smething similar.

All the while I also heard a more familiar sound, the faint sound of a friends voice.

"What the hell is that sound, hello... hello Wink, are you there?"

I was there but so was the mexican radio station.

So this morning when the phone rang and I heard the all too familiar sounds and I realized I'm not living up to my potential. I could be bridging the gap between two worlds by merely answering my telephone... if only I spoke spanish fluently. I will rectify the situation and apologize to any of my callers I have let down.

Yo soy uno coneja con un sombrero muy bonito.

There the first step has been taken.