Of Friends and Greasy Burgers

Yesterday, I diid something out of the ordinary: I went out to lunch. Now, you might be thinking to yourself, "that's not out of the ordinary." But for me, it is. I generally avoid eating out, as it gets pretty darn expensive, and I am but a poor college student. The added bonus of this, though, is that I benefit from eating homemade food, which is generally better for you, and quite often better tasting.

Yesterday, however, I helped a friend of mine move, and after a long day of arduous labor, we got really hungry, and her kitchen was by no means even ready to think about cooking, or preparing any food, for that matter. So, worn out and starving, we decided to go out and grab a bite to eat. We took a quick jaunt across the street to Chili's, whom although they're a huge chain and only getting bigger, and with whom I haven't forgiven for taking the Veggie and Smoked Cheese Quesidillas (my personal favorite) off the menu.

But I digress. We sat at our table, and proceeded with the lunch ritual of looking over the menu, glancing at the desserts and making fun of the the fruity drinks offered (which always have such amusing names), and drinking water.

We were sitting in a booth, which had another booth opposite separated by a wall with plants on it. In the opposite booth was a family of four, mother and father and two boys. The older boy was probably about 6 or 7, and the younger was only 2 or 3. The two boys sat on the inside of the booth, barred from escape by a parent on the outside.

The older boy was none to exciting, content to scarf his food and yell at his younger brother for everything he did. After all, isn't that what older brothers are supposed to do? The younger boy was something else. He was at that age where he's figuring out how to talk, and say "NO!" Needless to say, this little guy was something of a chatterbox.

As we were relaxing and talking, the little guy stands up on his seat, sees me, puts his hands on the wall to support himself, and begins a barrage of dialogue with me. Of course, due to the severe lack of context for our conversation, I had no idea what he was talking about. But in an effort to encourage him, I smiled and said "Hi. Yes!"

Apparently, I said the right thing, because he started talking even more. Mom and Dad weren't real keen on this, I'm guessing, probably not so much because he was talking to a stranger, but because he was ignoring his food and his company, and manners are very important to learn. So I didn't mind, but I probably didn't help them much by responding to the kid every time he jumped up and started talking to me.

We would be having some random conversation, and the kid would pop up and join right in. He even found something to say regarding our conversation about how the other night I declared that, if elected pope, I would be the first ever Ninja Pope. Long story.

But anywy, to be honest, it would have been impossible to ignore him, he was so funny. He'd pop up and start talking and smiling, and then he'd laugh. He even went so far as to later put his shoe on the wall to show me. "Thizh izh my choo!" "I see, and it's very cool!"

As the family finished up their meal and got ready to leave, the little guy thanked the waitress profusely. "Thaaaank you!" He even turned to me and said "bye bye." I waved goodbye, watching them as they went, thankful that such a great little kid had brightened my day.

I think I made a friend.