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I dilly dallied about for a while after I got home from NY, but after a couple weeks, I finally changed my phone number so that Winifred didn’t have to call long distance to get a hold of me. (That was pretty funny though.) Verizon refused to give me my old phone number back on the basis that a number has to be vacant (in limbo) for at least three months before it can be used again. Blech. Fine. So I got a new number. I’m pretty happy with this number. It’s much better than my NY number, which overall was, very drab and hard to remember. I do have one beef, however, and that is that, apparently, somebody out there named Ramón, gave this number out as his own and now his peeps are calling me. And by peeps I mean, his entire. freaking. family. I’ve spoken with his, mother, his father, his brother, his aunt and possibly his sister. Most of the time, it’s his dad that calls though. Now, granted, there’s a bit of a language barrier, but I’m having a hard time understanding how people could possibly mistake me for Ramón. The very first few times they called, I got the impression they thought I was some sort of naughty girlfriend who was purposely keeping the phone away from their son. They were very adamant that I give him the phone ahorita! (Now) So I would politely explain that this was no longer Ramón’s number, (if it ever was) that it is now my number and that no, I did not know who or where Ramón is/was. Each time, the disgruntled family member would hang up, and I would assume that they got the picture. Except they didnt. And apparently don’t.
It’s been five weeks. Five weeks and over twice as many calls and each time I tell them, no. I am Turtle. Not Ramón. But they just don’t seem to get it. His father called me, yet again, just the other day. I knew it was him, because they always call from the same place and I now have their number in my contacts under “Ramón’s Family.” Our conversation went a little something like this.

Me: Hello?
Ramón’s Dad: Hola? Ramón?
Me: No, this is Turtle.
Dad: Ramón?
Me: I think you have the wrong number.
Dad: Ramón?
Me: No, this is Turtle. There’s no Ramón here.
Dad: Necesito hablar con Ramón.
Me: Well, there’s no Ramón here.
Dad: Adonde esta?
Me: I don’t know.
Dad: I need to talk to him.
Me: Alright, but this is not his number.
Dad: But I’m his father!
Me: Okay … but
Dad: I want to talk to him!
Me: I’m sure you do, but I’m sorry I can’t …
Dad: He is my son!
Me: And I’m sure he’d be glad to hear from you, but this is not his number.
Dad: Sí
Me: No
Dad: Sí
Me: No
Dad: Sí
Me: Okay look, this is not …
Female Voice: Oye, que pasa?
Dad: (still talking into the phone, but responding to the woman) Es que no me deja hablar con Ramón.
Female Voice: Por que?
Dad: Dice que no esta.
Female Voice: Pues donde se fue?
Dad: Acaver, creo … *super fast Spanish that I’m unable to understand*
Female Voice: Digale que tengo comida!
Dad: *super fast Spanish* (two words I caught) muchacha malportada (followed by) *more super fast Spanish*
Mom: *yelling fast Spanish*

Dial Tone

Now, I’ve considered the possibility that the language barrier could be seriously hindering my progress but the father appears to speak English very well as does a different man that has called on a few occasions. If this were a first, second, or even third time occurrence, I could maybe justify their confusion, but it’s been nearly six weeks. And still they call every few days. Last time, the dad called three times before I finally picked up. They’re remarkably tenacious people! When I answer they insist on speaking to Ramón. I tried not answering but then they just leave messages for Ramón. I considered talking to them in Spanish, to try to explain what was going on, but they already think I’m hiding the phone from their son, if I spoke in Spanish, I think it would just confirm their suspicions that I’m an evil girlfriend bent on ceasing all communication to his relatives. And besides, I don’t think I could communicate to them any better in Spanish, than I’ve already been doing in English.
So I’m at a loss. I just don’t know what to do. And this Ramón business is getting a bit stressful. I mean, other than dealing with his pushy family, I’m kind of getting worried for the guy. If this was his number at some point, then it’s been over four months since he’s had it. (Three months limbo plus one month of being mine.) Four months without any contact with his family? That just doesn’t sound good, no matter how you cut it. So I gotta say, Ramón? I hope you’re okay, and if you are, call your dad. He’s annoying the hell out of me and it sounds like he’d really like to talk to you. And your mom too. I think she wants to feed you some dinner.

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