sandwiches and the homesick

So the other day one of the guys who walks dogs in my bosses' neighborhood walked past and we greeted each other because he used to work at this sandwich shop that just closed and my bosses knew everyone there. We started talking and as soon as he realized I spoke a little Spanish we switched over to it. He's from Puebla and Mexico City (and he confirmed my suspicion that New York's Mexican food SUCKS. My only complaint. I had a late night taco from a taco truck in b-burg last night. Just typical.) and hadn't been home in 15 years. It's hard to make time between his work.

At one point this little hunched over old lady walks by and hollers out his name. He switches back to English and talks to her "OH my" she says "I was so sad to see the restaurant go. I've been going there for years! I don't know where I'm gonna get breakfast any longer. How are you doing son?"
"I'm good, walking some dogs and cleaning houses."
"Oh that's good to hear. I wish you well. But I have to go. It's so hot."

She pushed her walker off. He turns to me and says, en Español, "I have worked here for 15 years, and she's the only one who has ever wanted to talk. Everyone just wants a sandwich."

He promised to take me and friends to the only passable Mexican places in the city.