greyhound to chicago

I don't know many ASL signs, but I spent about three hours translating D's ASL into Spanish for the man sitting next to him. I think, ultimately, conversation in a language you don't speak takes on a spare, unfiligreed beauty. Admittedly, I don't know if it translates well here.


Me on behalf of the Spanish Speaker: Where are you going?
D: To Chicago.
SS: Preguntale porque.
Me: Why?
D: For love.
Me: Amor.
D: She Florida. I work Chicago.
Me (to Spanish Speaker): El viaja por amor. La enamorada está en Florida. El trabaja en Chicago.
SS: Wow.
Me: Wow.
D: (smile)

***

D: You sad.
Me: Yes.
D: Why?
Me: I broke.
D: Bad man.
Me: No, good man.
D: Why?
Me: —
SS: ¿Qué te dijo? [What did he say to you?]
Me: Nada. [nothing]

***

D carried a lot of pictures with him. Photos of his family in Florida, of his daughter, of a record-setting lift.

Me: Is that you squatting so big?
D: Yes.
Me: Wow. My dad did, too.
D: Cool.
Me: He squatted, I don't know, 740 lbs.
D: Cool.
Me: How much you lift here?
D: 1-0-0-0. School record.
Me: Whaaaa?!
D: I have short legs. (points to massive legs)