The off duty waiter, clean and neat and near-moronic. The two Mexicans quietly enjoying the Canto-pop. The small crowd slamming dice cups. The bartendress, who understands that I do not touch alcohol.
Pumpkin seeds. Hot water. Tea.
Good times.
Some screaming from the alleyway.
Extemely loud music earlier at the burger joint, probably as a way to limit the stupid conversations that the grill-man would have to participate in.
Of which there were doozies.
The Canadian was a marked example.
A complete dunce, eh.
From Calgary.
I have relatives in Calgary. They are not thus. Quite intelligent and civilized, in fact. In my first year back in America I visited them over the holidays; haven't been back to Calgary since then, but the conversation has had far less to do with that than the climate.
My comfort zone is formed by the weather, and the availability of certain foods. Of which chilipeppers, in a plurality of guises, are a major part.
Conversation less so, especially random and strange.
Any place with lots of Mexicans and Chinese.
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