"What happened next although it only took a matter of seconds literally felt like one of those slow motion movies that you watch during an intense sequence."
When my political career was inevitably going to take a dive to hell because of my legal problems, I tried to figure out what I could possibly do to make some money at least until I knew what my future looked like. I had been in government and politics for over ten years and that really was most of my professional experience because I ran for office at such a young age. There were a few things that I was good at: I am very personable and I love to entertain, particularly with alcohol involved. So I figured “what the hell,” and I got a bartender’s license.
I started working at a really nice Puerto Rican restaurant in downtown Washington, D.C. It had been one of my favorite spots in the past and out of sheer coincidence a position opened up for day bartender. I had absolutely no experience either as a bartender or in restaurant work. I had done pretty much every other job imaginable except for that. I probably made more mojitos in the month that I worked there than I ever will in my entire life. I believe they hired me because the fact is that my resume was pretty freaking impressive and I had managerial experience, so I think they thought I could handle all the administrative aspects of the bar service, which I could. However, I really just wanted to learn how to make drinks and take it easy and really hide out until an eventual date for my doom was set.
The first day of my restaurant experience was monumental and eye opening. Although I knew how hard Latinos work in this country, I had never really experienced firsthand because I had never been in the "worker bee" environment other than in college. All jobs suck in college but you are mainly with other college students, especially if you are lucky to find a job on campus. So I was never really out in the workforce because immediately out of school I began working at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, to this day my dream job. The first question every single Latino employee there asked me was, “where else do you work?” It was almost guaranteed that if you worked in the restaurant field you had at least two jobs. Furthermore, these guys could not get enough hours! They always wanted more, they literally were the worker bees of the homo sapien species. Lastly, to watch them work was like watching an orchestrated symphony, they were incredible. I realized then that if all Latino food workers went on strike in this country for whatever cause we would shut down the restaurant industry in a matter of days, these guys literally carried the restaurant on their backs.
One afternoon, a few weeks into my job I was by myself at the bar and the rest of the staff including the manager were on break. The only other person was a chef in the kitchen to handle the light bar dishes while we switched from lunch to dinner. A nice couple came in and ordered some food and then sat at the corner of the bar. Shortly after them came in an older lady and who I assumed was her daughter roughly about my age. She came in wheeling a small suitcase behind her and I thought they were just coming back from the airport since National Airport was about fifteen minutes away. I then saw that the older lady had a hospital wristband on her wrist so she must have been leaving one of the local hospitals in the area. They sat down and the lady ordered the steak skewers, which were delicious by the way, the food there was amazing!
After a little bit of small talk as they are eating their food and I’m polishing the glasses the lady looks at me with extreme panic in her eyes that immediately froze the moment in time. She began doing the universal signals of choking, putting her hands to her throat and tears began flowing down her eyes. What happened next although it only took a matter of seconds literally felt like one of those slow motion movies that you watch during an intense sequence. I put the glass down and I bolted from behind the bar, ran around it towards the middle where she was, which felt like an eternity. She was sitting on a high stool, so I bent her forward toward the bar and began pounding her back with my open palm to try to dislodge the piece. After a few tries and seeing that she was still choking I reached to the archives of my damn memory to Eleanor Roosevelt High School’s Health Class and its mandatory CPR and Heimlich maneuver certifications that all Maryland students had to take in ninth grade. It was like when Neo learned Kung fu in the Matrix, somehow my brain remembered everything about it. I put my arms around her underneath her solar plexus, and with my hands in textbook positioning I began to inward thrust into her abdomen until she dislodged the piece. I do not remember how long it took, but the whole thing could not have been more than thirty seconds, yet it felt like forever.
The lady was naturally shaken up, and the couple who was sitting at the corner of the bar witnessed the whole thing and they kept praising me for what I had just done. It all really happened too quickly for me to realize what had just happened. The lady went to fix herself up in the bathroom and my dumb ass not knowing what to do gave them their check because I figured they would obviously be leaving. I can’t believe I freaking charged them, that’s how much of a daze I was in from what just happened. I want to say that the lady and the daughter and I hugged before they left, but I can’t remember because immediately after they walked out I started shaking uncontrollably. My hands would not stop shaking but I was not nervous, it made no sense to me. An EMT friend of mine would eventually tell me that it was the adrenaline that had shot up in my system and because everything happened so quickly my body was still rushing although the fight or flight event had ended. When I went to close the check moments later the daughter had given me a fifty dollar tip, and she wrote, “thank you for saving my mother’s life.”
I often think of that lady and how she is doing. I realize that medics and nurses save people’s lives every day, and I am not saying at all that somebody else could not have done it if I had not been there that day. But I believe God called on me, and that is what I would love to tell her. If I had not screwed up my political career, I would not have been there. Which is a hell of a though to try to rationalize for yourself if you are not at peace. I literally was only there for one month before I left, and I learned so much just in that short time. I learned that no politician will ever understand the need for a minimum wage unless they need one themselves. I learned how amazing the Latino workforce is in this country. And I have since learned to be at peace with myself and to surrender to God even in your mistakes. I was so mad at myself for screwing up, and I held on to that anger and pain for years. During this season of lent, I would like to let that lady and her daughter know, that now I look back at one of the toughest moments of my life, and I thank God for allowing me to be there for them . My mistake, as tough as it was, allowed God to use me for something amazing that I will never forget, even if it was just for one day.
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