“I’ve got a question for you.”
The cute older waitress smiles at me expectantly.
“Yes?”
“You see those three girls sitting at the table over there?”
She follows my eyes, sees the girl, and then nods at me.
“What do you think would happen if I went over there and said
hi.
Would that be weird?”
She smiles, giggles, and responds:
“No, I think that would be really awesome of you actually. Not
a lot
of men would do that.”
I smile. I don’t need her permission, but I’m curious. I continue,
“What do you think I should say?”
She thinks for a moment and laughs,
“I don’t know! I guess just introduce yourself or... yeah, I’m
not
sure!”
I smile again. I know exactly what I’m going to say.

Ever see the film Vicki Cristina Barcelona? If not, stop
reading and go watch it. In my favorite scene, the sultry Spaniard Juan
Antonio exchanges slews of sexy glances with the adventurous and flirty
Cristina. All the while, Cristina’s uptight and reserved friend Vicki
admonishes Cristina’s flirty behavior and flawlessly performs the role
of a cautious and boring upper-middle class woman.
Recognizing Cristina’s overly obvious eye-fucking, Juan strolls over
to their table. He looks lazily from one girl to the other, and then
rests his eyes on Cristina and simply asks,
“American?”
His intonation barely registers as a question and is devoid of all
fucks, drawing them both into his world. And despite some protest, he
convinces them both to fly with him to Oviedo and spend the weekend
with him. And, yes, he eventually smashes both of them.
I had to try it out myself. Not only did Juan’s bravado stir my
Latin blood, but once I consider approaching a girl, very few reasons
can stop me.
After paying my bill, I tell the waitress to wish me luck and walk
over to the girls.
They all look up at me expectantly. I pause for an extra second,
because why not, and then say simply, to no girl in particular,
”You from here?”