After weeks of complicated orchestrating with the most
organizationally challenged person I know, I finally got Stiff out for a night
on the town. Well a night out in Salisbury… which thinking back on it may have
been the reason she wasn’t “available” for so long. She actually made the
quotation marks with her fingers when she was blowing me off. Anyways, I decide
to take her to my favorite restaurant which coincidentally also happened to be
food from her homeland, Cuba. Honestly who knew, I thought she was Mexican. I
know what you’re thinking, what was the health grade, right? Well it shames me
to say that I didn’t check, but we had an American waiter, so I wasn’t too
worried about it. I thought for once
that I would impress miss oh so culturally diverse, with my own expanding
worldly knowledge. However two seconds after receiving the menu she laughs.
“They’re charging twelve dollars for poor people food!” she
said condescendingly.
This was news to me, I thought everyone in Cuba was
poor. Well I figure it’s time to defend
my savoir-faire.
“Steph, I thought maybe you
wanted to share this experience with me, this place gives me a feel of where
you come from” I neglect to tell her that up until that day I had believed her
Mexican…. details.
She replied snidely “do you
get excited to go eat a chili cheese dog?”
This was unfair; sure my
history is as culturally diverse as a Baptist congregation, but cheese dog,
really? She couldn’t even be bothered to make reference to my actual heritage.
I would have said something about boiled potatoes, but cheese dog!?
“I certainly wouldn’t
complain if someone else was footing the bill” I retort. That will put her in
her place. Ok, I didn’t say this but I did give her my most serious pouty face.
I think that shut her up, well either that or the delicious “poor people food”.
Because not only did Stiff lick her plate clean, (I think that’s some sort of
sign of gratitude in Cuba, like saying my compliments to the chef) but she also
ate some of mine. Of course, never one to
look a gift horse in the mouth, she spit it out and cried “no, no, no ew!” She
also requested some “poor people” dessert, but I figured that her level of
appreciation was already disproportionate to my generosity. When the server
came around to ask if we wanted any dessert I speedily cut her off, declined
his offer, and handed him my credit card. That’ll teach her. Of course joke’s
on me because she made me drive her all the way home.
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