Monday, February 16, 2009

Mario is a friend of mine who happens to me a fellow crew member on our tug. We have absolutely nothing in common, but I think we could be called friends.

Mario speaks little English, I speak little Spanish, but we communicate very well, somehow.

I’m just shy of 6 foot tall, Mario comes up to my shoulder.

I’m not much of a hunter and fisherman, but Mario could live off the land if he had to. In fact, he does, and he doesn’t have to.

He’s the best fisherman on the boat, we don’t fish for a living, we tug, but afterhours when the boys throw the lines over the side, Mario always catches the most fish.

He can clean a fish with his eyes closed. If I’m served fish that have eyes, I won’t eat it.

Mario is what I call a giver. He enjoys giving. He lives on the Island of Puerto Rico and any chance he gets to run home for a few hours, he’ll come back with a bag of fruit or vegetables, half of which I don’t even recognize. But I always say thank you.

He’s one of those guys that always has a smile on his face. I’ve worked with him off and on for about 5 years. I’ve never seen him in a bad mood.

Each morning he greets me with, “Buenos dias guapo.” How can I not like a guy who calls me handsome every day.
When I took his picture, he said he was giving me his serious look. See what I mean? Even with his serious look on, that smile is just barely under the surface.

Guys like Mario make my job of being away from home, easier.

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