The Comfy Corner

So, it is common knowledge in the restaurant business that the foreigners who walk in probably won't tip. As a result, we have taken to racially profiling people as soon as they walk through the door. If they speak English fluently, then odds are probably in our favor. If they seat themselves and look around the restaurant confused and then order one glass of water to share between the four of them - things are looking bad.

That is all preface to the story of this one woman who walked in alone. Her name was Cecilia. She spoke about as much English as I speak Spanish (which is to say, very very little). She ordered a pasta and didn't want anything to drink (always a bad sign). After I said one tiny little thing in Spanish to her (Esta bien?), I was trapped. She rattled away all of this Spanish that I didn't understand and before I knew it I was holding her iPhone taking pictures of her. I took one candid shot of her eating her pasta (it was for her mother...I think), and then I took another picture sitting down at an adjacent booth (all at her very specific request). In the middle of the photo shoot she stopped our busser, Milena, and said something along the lines of "I saw you last night, I was eating at the bar." Milena had never seen this woman before, ever. And then, before I could stop her, she took the camera and insisted that she take a picture of me. I posed super-awkwardly and she snapped the pic. She said something along the lines of me being more attractive in person than I am in the picture. She wanted to take more pictures of me but I insisted that the one picture was good enough and then she insisted that she email the picture to me (!). I put in my email address and now I have immortalized the memory. Perhaps I should have put in a fake email, but I kinda wanted the picture and the memory. Cecilia, the strange woman that came in and acted like she was my best friend and then walked away without tipping, I will never forget you.