morganphillipsland

Yesterday, St. Patrick’s Day, I had some grilled chicken nachos at FresCo Tortilla. FresCo Tortilla is a hole-in-the-wall Mexican food chain that never seems to have any Mexican employees. That’s not an indictment, just an observation. I would say that the food there is inauthentic, but my experience of Mexican food is primarily Taco Bell, Chevys Fresh Mex, and Northern California burrito shops — so I honestly wouldn’t know “authentic Mexican food” if it jumped up and bit me on the cuchifrito. So to speak? I honestly have no idea what a cuchifrito is. [See note at end of entry.]

Mid-nacho, I was joined at my table by an old white man in a yarmulke. He introduced himself as Moses. Initially he was sad and quavery. Eventually he would become furious and spry.

Here is our conversation. At first I was proud of myself for staying calm and collected throughout. Later I felt slightly ashamed about having been cruel to an old person. I’ll leave it to you to decide whether this story indicates that I’m a prick.

. . .

Moses: [Sitting down across from me] Hello, my name is Moses. I just got out of the hospital for pneumonia [quickly raising and lowering the cuff of his jacket in order to show his hospital bracelet] and if I don’t get something to eat soon, I’ll have to go back…

[I consider offering him the rest of my nachos, and I think he senses this, so he clarifies.]

Moses: [Holding out his hand] Could I just have a little bit of money?

Me: No, sorry.

Moses: Please?

Me: I’m sorry, I’m not going to help you.

Moses: Can I ask you why not?

Me: [After a brief pause to genuinely consider it] Because I’m greedy.

Moses: [Not pleased] No, that’s not the reason.

Me: What’s the reason, then?

Moses: Because you’re cheap!

Me: Moses, if you already knew the answer, why did you ask the question?

Moses: [Ignoring my question] Yeah, I should have known. I can see it all over your face. Cheap.

Me: Really? Because I would have said my face had more of a “greedy” thing going on.

Moses: [Getting up to leave] They’re the same thing!

Me: Then we were both right! Happy ending!

Moses stormed out of the FresCo Tortilla, no longer weak and quavery. Once on the other side of the glass front door, a look of pure rage upon his face, he gave me the finger. He rapidly vibrated his hand and arm as he did it, for emphasis. Is there a name for that particular style of giving the finger? There should be.

Note: I’ve just looked up “cuchifrito,” and apparently it is a small, deep-fried cube of pork. Or possibly a misspelling of a blanket term for “Puerto Rican soul food.” If it indeed is solely a Puerto Rican dish, not Mexican, then my use of the term was kind of ickily culturally insensitive. Sorry about that. As previously discussed, it’s possible that I’m kind of a prick.

Here is what Google image search came up with: