Waiting for Their Majority to Rule

One by one, at five-minute intervals so as not to draw attention, the men entered the El Pollo Loco restaurant and convened at a corner table in the back. The youngest, who appeared to be about 30 years old, went to the counter and placed their orders -- three burrito combos and a chicken taquito.

“Where’s the napkins?” Luis asked, when the man returned with the food.

“You didn’t say anything about napkins,” Ernesto said. “Why didn’t you tell me before I went up there?”

Luis and the other two men, Gilberto and Freddy, exchanged glances. Sometimes they wondered if Ernesto had what it took to be a revolutionary.

“All right, gentlemen,” Luis said, “you know why we’re here. The revolution is coming, and we are going to lead it. All movements start out small, but take heart. This is exactly how Lenin began.”

“They had El Pollo Locos in Russia?” Ernesto asked.

“You fool,” Luis said. “I mean all great movements begin with just a few dedicated members. Remember, ‘Bolshevik’ meant ‘majority.’ ”

Ernesto shrugged and took a bite out of his burrito.

“We are destined to be the majority,” Luis said, “so we must be ready to impose the Latin culture on America.”

Murmurs of assent spread among the men. “Don’t be so stingy with the beans,” Gilberto said to Freddy, reaching across the table.

“Let’s get started,” Luis said. “How do we impose our culture?”

The revolutionaries sat silently, fidgeting with their plastic forks. “For starters,” Ernesto said, “we could make Spanish the official language, right?”

The other three men shifted uncomfortably in their seats. “Uh, actually,” Freddy said, “none of my kids speak Spanish.”

“What?” Luis said. “I hear people speaking Spanish all the time. Spanish radio, billboards, businesses.”

“Not on my block,” Freddy said. “The immigrant parents I know all want their kids to learn English.”

“Other ideas,” Luis said, a bit impatiently.

“Eventually, we expand soccer so that it becomes the national pastime instead of baseball,” Ernesto said.

“Are you nuts?” Gilberto said, spitting a combination of chicken and lettuce halfway across the table. “I love baseball. Both my boys play it in high school. Speaking of which, I’ve got 10 bucks says the Angels win the Series this year.”

“I’ll take that bet,” Ernesto said, without hesitation.

“We need to bring the high school kids into the movement,” Luis said. “They’re the future.”

“Good luck,” Freddy said, sighing. “My daughter’s 15 and I’m lucky if she gives me the time of day. She’s on the cell or iPod all day, and when she’s not, she’s at the mall with her girlfriends. Now, if you want somebody to take over the malls, I think we’ve got a real shot.”

The others laughed, but Luis sensed they weren’t getting anywhere. They agreed to do more eating and less talking, but after 10 to 15 minutes, Gilberto broke the silence. “The problem,” he said, “is that half the Latin guys I know are marrying white girls, and half the Latinas I know are marrying white guys. It’s kind of hard to take over the culture when we’re in it.”

“Now that I think about it,” Freddy said, “what exactly does it mean to take over the culture? If it means I give up my Kobe jersey and can’t shoot off fireworks on the Fourth of July, count me out.”

“Relax,” Luis said. “It just means that, you know ... we just sort of, uh, take over.”

“OK, sure, I guess that sounds all right,” Gilberto said, haltingly. He said it without much conviction, and another uncomfortable silence fell over the table.

As the men began tidying up, Ernesto said, “If we’re done for tonight, I kind of need to get going.”

“How come?” Luis said.

“It’s pushing 9 o’clock, and I never miss ‘Lost.’ ”

*

Dana Parsons’ column appears Wednesdays, Fridays and Sundays. He can be reached at (714) 966-7821 or at dana.parsons@latimes.com. An archive of his recent columns is at www.latimes.com/parsons.