Last weekend I traveled up to New York for a friend's birthday and to visit the BF and was greeted with some exciting news. Saul, or "mi amor"--because it's OK to use sappy pet names if they're not in English--was interviewed for an article in El Diario, New York City's largest Spanish-language newspaper. What Saul did not know at the time of the interview was that he would be featured as the cover story, and his face would plaster the front page of Saturday's edition!
(He was a bit disappointed to see that his neck seemingly did not arrive on time for the cover shoot, but being the support system that I am, I reassured him that, hey, no one can ever really trust a skinny chef. And in my opinion, if your photo is quintuple the pixels of Ricky Martin's, you've clearly made it, no neck and all.)
Online, you can find the article here.* Offline, you can find the article in any one of the 137 purchased copies Saul is currently hiding in his apartment.
Needless to say, (Note: this idiom is not true. I'm getting there...) I truly could not have been more proud of him. In my opinion, this recognition is not only well-deserved but is long overdue. Saul has worked so hard and has achieved so much all before the age of 30....and that's a good thing because we all know what happens at 30: your life is pretty much over, and in my case, I'll be entrusting one lucky loved one with the task of taking me out back and Old Yellering me. (To everyone over the age of 30 who is reading this, I admire and respect your choice. Keep reaching for those stars. It's not so bad, right???)
Apparently for poor Saul, however, I did not effuse enough praise, which is probably a fair judgment. I'm not overly excitable in situations like this. "Wow, Powerball winner, huh? Good stuff. Glad that statistically worked in our favor this time."
I became painfully aware of this when throughout the day, Saul kept casually bringing up the article. I should note here that Saul is an incredibly humble and selfless human being...traits which he has obviously learned and cultivated from my example.
The first comment was dropped while we were sitting down having lunch together...at a restaurant that was/is getting away with selling $8 tacos. No, no, not a platter of tacos. Like, PER TACO. I understand this is New York City, where you can get away with selling someone a used piece of floss for $2, but for $8 a taco, I expect that pollo to have been serenaded to slaughter by a 7-piece mariachi band with maracas made from hollowed-out unicorn eggs.
As he's looking at his phone, presumably Googling himself, and I'm nervously rambling about the restaurant's solid choice in stemware in an effort to keep the conversation going--because there is a damn lot of pressure on a 48-hr weekend when you're in a long-distance relationship, and everything had better be spectacular and perfect AND fun-filled AND argument-free, ok?!--he, in an attempt at utter nonchalance, slips in, "So I guess this is kind of like a big deal or something, no? I mean, I didn't think it was that big of a deal, but I'm surprised that a lot of people have left me so many comments on Facebook already, which means they've seen the article...which I thought wasn't that big of a deal...I mean, I guess..." Again, I try reinforcing that he is absolutely correct. This is a big deal, and I am so very proud of him. THESETACOSARE8DOLLARS?!?
Later in the day, as we are walking around the city in an effort to stave off impending food comas, Saul opines that he should sign up for a membership with the New York City Sports Club and really get his act together. "I mean, mi amor, now that people are going to start recognizing my face and knowing who I am, I'm going to have to get more serious about things and start looking like a real businessman. I just can't mess around anymore." Me: "You are absolutely right! Can we go get some gelato?"
As evening sets in and we continue to stroll around, Saul casually asks, "Do you think we can pop into a corner store to get something?"
"Sure. What do you need to get?"
"Well, I just want to see if I can pick up a copy of the article, you know, for myself, before it's gone tomorrow."
I turn my head, trying my best to stifle my chuckles, because we all know that there are currently 137 copies occupying his one-bedroom apartment uptown. But let mi amor have his day in the sun; he's earned it.
We venture into no less than five convenience stores before we finally find one that has a copy. My failed attempt to appear more supportive: "Wow! This must mean that all these places have sold out of copies. That's fantastic!" Saul points out that we are in SoHo and that no one sells Spanish-language anything in SoHo. Well way to rain on my parade.
When we finally arrive at a corner store that carries El Diario, we discover there is only one copy left. It is destined to be! Saul just stands there. "Here it is!" I say, "Let's get it." Saul makes no move to pick up the paper from the rack.
"Yeah, I mean, it'd be a good idea to get a copy for ourselves to have, no?"
He takes a definitive step back from the newspaper rack and tries to suddenly look interested in Slim Jims.
"Ohhhh I see what you're doing!" I say. "Nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh-no. You are NOT going to get all shy and embarrassed now! We've trekked all the way across town for this article. You wanted the paper, so come on. You're going to have to slap that bad boy on the counter and do your best to restrain yourself from striking that same pose and flashing that trademark grin! Now let's go."
The thing about New York is that 99% of its inhabitants don't give a shit who you are. You could be Madonna herself and New Yorkers would only become concerned with your existence if: a) you were trying to take their cab; or b) you were taking way too long in the Starbucks/Barnes & Noble/Whole Foods restroom. In many ways, this is for the best, and it reinforces the point that the cashier behind the counter certainly didn't give a shit as to why we were squabbling over who would pay for a newspaper that was going to be replaced with tomorrow's edition in just a few hours. ...which also makes it even funnier that Saul made this grand gesture of folding the newspaper in half and tucking it under his arm as he quickly left some change on the counter and hurried out of the store.
I, of course, wasn't going to leave it at that. I grabbed the newspaper from underneath his arm, opened it up flashing the cover to everyone we passed on the sidewalk, while emphatically moving my gaze back and forth between pretending to read all these Spanish words and staring up at Saul. Please note that if karma really did exist, I would've bitten it hard on a raised piece of cracked sidewalk while doing this, but thankfully that didn't happen. Yet.
In the end, I asked Saul to take a picture of me to upload to Facebook, which I think made up for all of my absent commendations early in the day:
*Por favor, if someone could please read this and send me a translation, um, that would be great. Look, don't judge me. I know the important stuff: "Necessito usar el baño." "Tengo hambre." "No pienso que tu necesites una cerveza otra." See?
(He was a bit disappointed to see that his neck seemingly did not arrive on time for the cover shoot, but being the support system that I am, I reassured him that, hey, no one can ever really trust a skinny chef. And in my opinion, if your photo is quintuple the pixels of Ricky Martin's, you've clearly made it, no neck and all.)
Online, you can find the article here.* Offline, you can find the article in any one of the 137 purchased copies Saul is currently hiding in his apartment.
Needless to say, (Note: this idiom is not true. I'm getting there...) I truly could not have been more proud of him. In my opinion, this recognition is not only well-deserved but is long overdue. Saul has worked so hard and has achieved so much all before the age of 30....and that's a good thing because we all know what happens at 30: your life is pretty much over, and in my case, I'll be entrusting one lucky loved one with the task of taking me out back and Old Yellering me. (To everyone over the age of 30 who is reading this, I admire and respect your choice. Keep reaching for those stars. It's not so bad, right???)
Apparently for poor Saul, however, I did not effuse enough praise, which is probably a fair judgment. I'm not overly excitable in situations like this. "Wow, Powerball winner, huh? Good stuff. Glad that statistically worked in our favor this time."
I became painfully aware of this when throughout the day, Saul kept casually bringing up the article. I should note here that Saul is an incredibly humble and selfless human being...traits which he has obviously learned and cultivated from my example.
The first comment was dropped while we were sitting down having lunch together...at a restaurant that was/is getting away with selling $8 tacos. No, no, not a platter of tacos. Like, PER TACO. I understand this is New York City, where you can get away with selling someone a used piece of floss for $2, but for $8 a taco, I expect that pollo to have been serenaded to slaughter by a 7-piece mariachi band with maracas made from hollowed-out unicorn eggs.
As he's looking at his phone, presumably Googling himself, and I'm nervously rambling about the restaurant's solid choice in stemware in an effort to keep the conversation going--because there is a damn lot of pressure on a 48-hr weekend when you're in a long-distance relationship, and everything had better be spectacular and perfect AND fun-filled AND argument-free, ok?!--he, in an attempt at utter nonchalance, slips in, "So I guess this is kind of like a big deal or something, no? I mean, I didn't think it was that big of a deal, but I'm surprised that a lot of people have left me so many comments on Facebook already, which means they've seen the article...which I thought wasn't that big of a deal...I mean, I guess..." Again, I try reinforcing that he is absolutely correct. This is a big deal, and I am so very proud of him. THESETACOSARE8DOLLARS?!?
Later in the day, as we are walking around the city in an effort to stave off impending food comas, Saul opines that he should sign up for a membership with the New York City Sports Club and really get his act together. "I mean, mi amor, now that people are going to start recognizing my face and knowing who I am, I'm going to have to get more serious about things and start looking like a real businessman. I just can't mess around anymore." Me: "You are absolutely right! Can we go get some gelato?"
As evening sets in and we continue to stroll around, Saul casually asks, "Do you think we can pop into a corner store to get something?"
"Sure. What do you need to get?"
"Well, I just want to see if I can pick up a copy of the article, you know, for myself, before it's gone tomorrow."
I turn my head, trying my best to stifle my chuckles, because we all know that there are currently 137 copies occupying his one-bedroom apartment uptown. But let mi amor have his day in the sun; he's earned it.
We venture into no less than five convenience stores before we finally find one that has a copy. My failed attempt to appear more supportive: "Wow! This must mean that all these places have sold out of copies. That's fantastic!" Saul points out that we are in SoHo and that no one sells Spanish-language anything in SoHo. Well way to rain on my parade.
When we finally arrive at a corner store that carries El Diario, we discover there is only one copy left. It is destined to be! Saul just stands there. "Here it is!" I say, "Let's get it." Saul makes no move to pick up the paper from the rack.
"Yeah, I mean, it'd be a good idea to get a copy for ourselves to have, no?"
He takes a definitive step back from the newspaper rack and tries to suddenly look interested in Slim Jims.
"Ohhhh I see what you're doing!" I say. "Nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh-no. You are NOT going to get all shy and embarrassed now! We've trekked all the way across town for this article. You wanted the paper, so come on. You're going to have to slap that bad boy on the counter and do your best to restrain yourself from striking that same pose and flashing that trademark grin! Now let's go."
The thing about New York is that 99% of its inhabitants don't give a shit who you are. You could be Madonna herself and New Yorkers would only become concerned with your existence if: a) you were trying to take their cab; or b) you were taking way too long in the Starbucks/Barnes & Noble/Whole Foods restroom. In many ways, this is for the best, and it reinforces the point that the cashier behind the counter certainly didn't give a shit as to why we were squabbling over who would pay for a newspaper that was going to be replaced with tomorrow's edition in just a few hours. ...which also makes it even funnier that Saul made this grand gesture of folding the newspaper in half and tucking it under his arm as he quickly left some change on the counter and hurried out of the store.
I, of course, wasn't going to leave it at that. I grabbed the newspaper from underneath his arm, opened it up flashing the cover to everyone we passed on the sidewalk, while emphatically moving my gaze back and forth between pretending to read all these Spanish words and staring up at Saul. Please note that if karma really did exist, I would've bitten it hard on a raised piece of cracked sidewalk while doing this, but thankfully that didn't happen. Yet.
In the end, I asked Saul to take a picture of me to upload to Facebook, which I think made up for all of my absent commendations early in the day:
Caption: She loves to read!
Isn't that the truth, especially when it's about the incredible perseverance and accomplishments of the Saulito I love!
*Por favor, if someone could please read this and send me a translation, um, that would be great. Look, don't judge me. I know the important stuff: "Necessito usar el baño." "Tengo hambre." "No pienso que tu necesites una cerveza otra." See?
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