What We Talk About at Lunch

When new friends gather, we talk about whatever pops into mind. Marketing, branding, photography. School that costs $150k a year. Cloud computing. Security. We walk from De and Mike’s office in the 95ºF heat. Nobody minds. Everyone knows each other except me, I’m the new guy, but I’m made to feel welcome. We walk to La Bamba, a Cuban place with covered, outdoor seating. Mike and I wander into the weeds of cameras and lenses. Names like Voigtlander, and Biogon. Lenses as big as your head, or bigger. No fun to carry around. Not like this little Leica that makes you want to bring it everywhere. Tom orders the Cuban sandwich, but everything else is good, too, I’m assured. I go for the Jamaican steak, which comes with the best black beans I’ve ever eaten. They’re sweet, like maybe they’ve got pineapple in them. There’s a lot on my plate, and though I come close, I can’t clear it. I didn’t even ask if they have flan. Not that I eat dessert, anyway. But had I thought of it, I would’ve wandered off the reservation, just for today, because flan, and creme brulee, are the exceptions to any rule you might throw at yourself.