I had a....tryst.....with a Mexican boy once. He was a line cook at the restaurant I bartended at, and he didn't speak much English. I spoke a little Spanish because I was raised in Miami, but nothing that did us any good. He took me out to eat and stuff, but we spent most of the time giggling and flirting without words. He was quite a bit younger than me.

Anyway, I spent time at his house and with his friends that also worked in our kitchen. None of them spoke much English, but they were all very good to me. It was an odd feeling. I would hang out in the livingroom with a bunch of these guys, and I couldn't understand most of what they were saying. They were very sweet to me though, even though they were a little rough around the edges.

I ended helping a few of them out with stuff that they had trouble with, work permit paperwork and whatnot, and I guess I earned some kind of place of honor with them.

My purse got taken at work one day, and I was heartbroken. It was stolen right out of the employee breakroom, and because of timing, it was one of the kitchen crew that I hung out with who snagged it. Dammit, I loved these guys, and one of em snagged my purse.

I let it go, but out of the blue, my purse showed up a few days later. It was sitting exactly where it was taken from in the breakroom.

I don't know how exactly it happened, but later I put together that one of the guys had called off for a about a week. I happened to be there when he picked up his final check. He was healing by that time, but dammit, he had gotten the shit kicked out of him. Still black and blue, and one of his eyes was just a mass of red spiderwebs....

Anyway, I know without knowing that these guys held me in some sort of regard, and someone crossed the line and got shitcanned. I love those guys, and whatever they stood for.

Not sure if this relates to the thread in the slightest, but my current boyfriend is asleep and I felt like sharing.