Elevator Evesdropping

After tonight's dance practice, I shared an elevator with three young men: a tall African-American with dreadlocks and braces; a short latino with athletic bag, gold chain, and baseball cap; and a quiet, lanky African-American with headphones, gold chains, and fancy track suit. They appeared to be about 20 years old.

The outgoing Latino announced to all, "I'm making vegetables and tofu when I get home!"

The tall one looked at him and said, "Is there even a word in Spanish for tofu?"

The Latino smiled, "Nah!"

First, the homeboy look of this young man didn't suggest that he was tofu eater. It was evident from the expression of his friend that he thought the same. Second, as a vegetarian for over 20 years, I immediately recalled the repeated difficulty I had ordering vegetarian dishes at a popular El Salvadorian restaurant years ago. There doesn't appear to be a word for vegetarian in Spanish.

After a pause the Latino confessed, "I'm going home to vegetables and tofu. That's sad!" He shook his head and then said, "Well, I've got two cats." Pause. "I'm going home to vegetable tofu and two cats. That's sad!"

Finally, the quiet one said forlornly, "At least you have two cats. Some people don't have anyone to come home to."

We exited the elevator and all three stood at the entrance holding the door for me, which was super sweet. I was compelled to break the New Yorker's 4th wall and tell them I enjoyed their conversation. The smiled shyly, thanked me, and walked toward apartments with vegetable tofu, cats, or emptiness.