My Arrogant Moment

During the early weeks of my travels last July, I was in a small town in Idaho. I had stopped at a roadside attraction and was chatting with the proprietor about a variety of things. Since it was approaching mid-day, and I had not yet eaten a single meal in a restaurant on the trip, I asked her for a recommendation for lunch. Her immediate response was that there was a great Mexican restaurant in a town not far away.

I’m sure the thought bubble above my head read something like the following:

 “Look, lady. We are standing in a grain field in Idaho. Why would I want to eat Mexican food in Idaho of all places? I have lived for 30 years in Phoenix, where there’s an awesome Mexican restaurant in every strip mall, and thankfully there’s a taco truck on every corner. C’mon, gimme a referral to a place that will serve me one of your famous potatoes”.

But in deference to civilized discourse, I did not read the contents of my thought bubble aloud. I instead said something like:

“Well, I think I’ll save Mexican food for when I return to the Southwest”.

The “Roadside Attraction Proprietor” paused for a moment, leveled her wise gaze at me and said something like the following:

“Let me tell you the story about the owner of that Mexican restaurant. He came to this country as a young man and spoke very little English. He took a job washing dishes in a restaurant, and worked alongside an older man who also spoke little English. The younger man realized that he needed to take the steps to improve his life so that he could avoid being a dishwasher in 40 years. It took time, but he learned English, collected and perfected his mother’s recipes from central Mexico, and opened the restaurant that’s now in our town. The food is excellent and draws diners from many far-flung towns in the area. He’s an important part of our community”.

I realized after I drove away that I should not have labeled the woman, “Roadside Attraction Proprietor”. Rather, I should have labeled her, “Thought Bubble Reader”. Or more accurately, “Bubble Reader of Arrogant Thoughts (BRAT)”.

I mumbled to BRAT something about having actually just driven from the town where the Mexican restaurant was located, and could she give me a referral to a location in the direction where I was headed, on Highway XYZ.

I had my lunch at her second referred location — I had a great meal accompanied by my tiny-bit-more-open-mind. :-)

As our news cycle this week has been dominated by stories of immigrants and their contributions to our country, I have reflected back on this instance several times. It’s a very warm memory of our travels. So I thought I’d share.

As for BRAT? I don’t know how if or how she would have labeled me. But I have my guesses :-).