The Tale of the Taco Part 3

Yes, everyone, I am seriously dragging this story out. I want to develop some sort of storytelling skills, and while this tale may seem mundane to some, I think a good storyteller can transform the mundane into the magical.
...okay, maybe I won't make tacos magical, but still.
Bear with me.

This is part one, and this is part two, if you want to catch up to speed.

So, when I left off, I was planning on walking down to the brightly colored addition to our neighborhood, the grocery store.
My mission? To visit the taco truck.

 So I grabbed some cash and my phone and walked down to the taco truck. Don Pedro's Taco's was painted on the side of the truck, among many Spanish phrases about catering.
One side of the truck had a canopy. Underneath was a wall of plexiglass so one could see all that went into the making of a taco. A whiteboard with Spanish words was propped up, so you knew what Don Pedro was offering for the day. 
 
I saw that there was a sink, a griddle, a condiment bar, and shelves all within this taco truck. I approached the ordering window, somewhat hesitantly, smiling and trying to remember any and all Spanish I might be able to use.

Don Pedro (for that is his name) saw me coming. He smiled and said, "Hello! How are you today baby?"

Don Pedro, a man of about 50, spoke in broken English. He was short, chipper, and kindly.
He washed his hands and took my order. He prepared the food carefully, and showed it to me before boxing it up, to make sure all was right.
What a jewel.

He asked me if I was my father's daughter, because Dad and Don Pedro had done some chit-chatting about families and such.

In fact, the next time my parents went down to the taco truck, Don Pedro congratulated them on having me, almost as if I was a newborn.
"Congratulations to you! You have a big daughter! I saw her the other day!", he told them as a way of congratulating them.

...I'm sure he meant well. Big doesn't mean large, not always.


Well, anyways, my first visit was a success. I ordered my food, paid, and went on my way.

The next visits weren't quite as easy.

After the first few visits of easily ordering my food in English, Don Pedro decided that I needed to start broadening my scope.
I was always greeted with a "Hello Baby!" whenever I came down.

To be noted:
If read in the wrong way, it sounds like Don Pedro is a creeper.
Let me clarify: he's not.
At all.
His pronunciation of baby is the Spanish pronunciation for infant. It's like honey or sweetie. I just thought I should alleviate the confusion. That is all.

So, After easily ordering in English, Don Pedro decided to go deaf to English.
I noticed it the next time I went down to order.
"Hello Don Pedro! How are you?"
"Holá Bay-be! No, no, es '¿Cómo está?'"
"ohh, ¿Cómo está?'"
Don Pedro beamed.
"Bien, bien, gracias. E tú?"
"Muy Bien! So, today I would like to have 6 chicken tacos for my family-"
"No, no, baby. Not like that. En Español, por favor."
"ummm...seis pollo tacos, por favor?"

He laughed at my silly grammar.  I'm sure I have a funny accent in Spanish.(And no, the tacos were not all for me.)


...and so he taught me to order in Spanish properly.
 "Yo necesito seis tacos de pollo. Uno taco plano, y cinco tacos con todo, por favor."


He told me what to say, and had me repeat it back to him until I could get it word-perfect. He told me "no food unless you say it right!" 
His yummy food is/was a good motivator. [And it's not just because I am my parent's big daughter.]


Don Pedro is one of those happy rays of light that makes your day a better one, just for getting to interact with him.

He has a daughter who is in her late 20's (I think she's a doctor in Mexico) and two sons away at university in Mexico. One is 19 and the other is 17.
He and his wife decided to come to the US to sell tacos.
I really hope he sticks around.