The Mexican-American Chameleon

I was walking to work this morning from the Bart Station, when I saw a hand waiving for my attention from the corner of my eye. It was a Mexican woman. Did I know this lady somehow? I have a shitload of relatives so I wouldn’t be surprise if I did. I tried to pin a name with the face. Is this one of my dad’s cousins? Cousin Sophia? Should I give her a hug and ask her how she’s been? Right away, she smile and I smiled back. But my smile quickly faded as she opened her mouth and I realized that I don’t know this woman and she is asking me something in Spanish. In a nanosecond, I became what I like to refer to as the Mexican-American Chameleon.

One of the great benefits about being Mexican-American is that I get this unique ability to transmute between two people at any given moment. For example, when I'm walking down the street and another fellow Mexican stops me and bugs me by asking "Donde esta las puedo un hombre en la cocina?" I honestly don't know what the fuck they are saying, so I just shrug and say "Sorry, I don't speak el Spanish..." Usually they will look me up and down acknowledging that it’s obvious I’m Mexican and that I’m a moron for not learning Spanish. A smart-ass comment like "Wuedo." is usually whispered under their breath and seconds later, I am quickly on my way again. Easy as that. And that's the real Daniel. I may look like I could talk a gang of Spanish, but honestly I only know how to say water, love, and tortilla.
Conversely, let’s say I get myself in a awkward situation where I am at Victoria’s Secret and the store manager is Linda Smish. Let’s say she comes up to me and says something like "Hi sir,.. um... Yeah, so I have been watching you and I want you to know that I completely understand because we get a lot of guys in here. It's ok to stare at the mannequin. It's very normal. But sir, you have been here for 45 minutes looking at the same mannequin. It’s very uncomfortable for us all" So all I did or would do is simply transform into Hector- a Mexican straight off the Diesel trailer from Mexico- and pretend I don't know what they hell she is saying. I would shrug and say "Que? Desando penando miando citando limando aqua tortilla de amor..." Which any Spanish speaking person or beginning Spanish student, for that matter, knows translates into "What? Desando penando miando citando limando water tortilla of love..." The manager would quickly realize and say "Oh, you don't even speak English. You must have just crossed the border. You don't know any better. Ok, Ok, that's understandable." She’ll look me up and down- acknowledging that’s it’s obvious that I’m Mexican and that I’m a moron for not learning English. A smart-ass comment like "Wetback" is whispered under her breath, and I am quickly on my way again. Easy as that.- The Mexican-American Chameleon, ladies and gentleman.

NOTE: My attempts at mastering the African-American and Mentally Challenged Chameloeon proved to be too difficult.