Latino veteran Bruin.

I was supposed to have lunch with Jess at In-N-Out on Friday. The restaurant remains, years after I stopped working there, a preferred place for me because of the great food and the oddly relaxing sounds of spoiled Westside teenagers munching on animal-style fries.

Jess was supposed to drive to my apartment and honk, because she did not have her phone on her. 45 minutes after she was supposed to be there, hunger won over my will to wait, and I left a note in my door saying I was walking by myself and to meet me there instead.

On my way, I bought a copy of the LA Times, and picked up The Onion before going into In-N-Out. It was just past the lunch rush, and the place was starting to empty out. I had one of those odd cravings for a special order. I asked for a triple cheeseburger with grilled onions, well done and wrapped in lettuce.

Once I got my order, I took a seat in one of the small tables near the back entrance. Being by myself, I figured I would avoid the booths that the teenagers prefer, or any of the window tables near the line where people order.

A few minutes later, an short 82-year-old tapped my shoulder. He was wearing a "US Submarine Veterans" hat, a blue jacket, and velcro shoes.

"I like your shirt," he said with a broken smile. I was wearing my "Legalize LA" t-shirt from American Apparel, and he had just read the JFK quote gracing my back. As he smiled, his eyes became really small and cheerful, as I would come to learn over our two and a half hour conversation that followed.

His name is Rudy Galaviz and he is part of the UCLA Class of 1952, having studied International Relations. Before coming to Westwood, he attended local schools in San Clemente and enrolled in the armed forces right out of high school, to serve in WWII.

The happy old man was a riot, calling McCain, "a young racist", and asking me about my love life. He was excited about my trip to Argentina, blaming his early marriage in his inability to fulfill his world-traveling dreams. He told the stories of his service as a radar operator in the Pacific, and his current fight against racism and ageism in his last days. "I could write a book about how people treat me differently when I am wearing this hat and when I am not", he said, taking off his blue baseball cap. "Some think I wear it to express pride, but I'm only doing it to protect myself from the Americans," he said, only half-jokingly.

He spoke highly of his 'gringa' wife, and invited me over to meet her someday. As we left, he gave me a big hug and told Jess, who had caught up with us, that I had made his day.

I know it's cheesy, but he had made my week.