24 May 2011
405
R. Linda:
OK, I don't like to say anything bad about other people, but I was driven to the brink of insanity today by three people who nearly drove me over the edge. It all started at a conference for international journalism that I actually paid money to attend. It started off well enough, you know the HELLO MY NAME IS ---- tags and complimentary coffee and first lecture and off it went.
By lunchtime, we all herded into a makeshift cafe' in the hotel hallway where we all got a plate banquet style, selected our food and then found a table. Since most of the attendees did not know each other, we sat with whomever. Well, I sat with whomever, one whomever from France, one from Germany, one from here. I was the only Brit at the table and I was accused by the American of not speaking ENGLISH. Yup.
It started like this, I asked if I could join them and the German said, "Vell, vee dunt no eachh utter so zit." I introduced meself and sat down.
"Vot izz dat yah haf on yer plate? It lookz like ze brotwurssshttt yah?" He asked.
"No, hot dog, American hot dog," I said squeezing mustard from a packet on top of the HOT DOG.
"I don't know how you can eat zos zings zey fill zee casing zwit dog meat . . . " The Frenchman commented.
"Don't you eat frogs?" The American asked with a chuckle, "Frog sandwich on a baguette?"
"Zat iz froog leggis. Not zee whole a' ze froog, no!" The Frenchman countered.
Oh my, I thought already we were off to a culinary start that was unappetising and tense. I took a bite as the German said to me, "Vot izz brotwurssshttt vit outen a goot German beer?"
Indeed, I smiled but the American couldn't let it go.
"Coke-A-Cola. Hot dogs and Coke." He said biting into his hamburger.
The German ignored him and focused on the Frenchman.
"I nevah could undah stond how you Frunchhh could eat Fhroogs." He said to the Frenchman.
"Zee problem you all zeem tooo havvve iz zat WE DO NOT EAT ZEE ENTIRE FROOG. Jus zee leggis."
"Well, you do eat nasty snails too," the American threw in.
The Frenchman sighed, he wasn't in the mood, but he wasn't going to back down either.
"You Americans zink jus becauss you havv zee hot a doggis, zat you are culinary experts," and he rolled his eyes.
"Wait a minute," I said, "I like hot dogs but in defence of him," (I impolitely gestured toward the American) "hot dogs may not be a culinary wonder but they certainly taste bloody better than say . . . German beer!" I forgot who I was sitting with, yes I did and if you think me German lunch mate was letting THAT go by . . . think again.
"VHAAT?" He nearly roared. "Engleesh beers zare veak and piddlee!"
"No, no they are full-bodied and bloody tasty." I countered, a mouthful of hot dog.
"Bloody? Yuck." The American was uninvited, throwing in an unasked-for comment that did nothing but annoy me.
"No, not bloody bloody, it's a Brit expression," I said to him.
"I don't understand British, why can't you speak English?" He said to me open-mouthed horror.
"Oo la la," the Frenchman laughed, "speak Breetish, not Englese . . . hahaha!"
"And you guys wear funny hats with moustaches." The American said all smug suddenly to the Frenchman.
"Huts zit mustashees? I don't zink zo, the Breetish wear funny huts zit zee fur, fur huts zee soldeeairs wear at zee palass . . . when zey are not drinking zee tea." The Frenchman finished.
"Hey!" I said, "We do not sit around in bloody furry hats drinking tea all day."
"Goot for you British, no haats, no zitting round zipping tea, instead you fill beer housens vit veak beer an zats vot you do bhast."
I sighed looking at me German lunchmate and shaking me head. What was I to do with him? He insisted German beer was better than British and would not back down. When he had completely trounced me on beer, he went so far as to say that German engineering made far superiour motors especially over BMW's and for me not to say a word, there was no debate. But the American couldn't keep still.
"An American invented the CAR." The American just had to jump in.
"Yah mean Enry Fhord? Zo? Vee Germans made it bettah!" This emphasised with a finger in the air.
"Donut forget the Breetish drive zee motor cars un zee wrong sides of zee road." The Frenchman commented wiping his mouth and then laughing.
"Yeah, what's up with that British guy?" The American asked me.
"No von vit half zee brain drives on zee left." The German said smugly looking at me down his nose.
I sat there lips pressed together trying to keep me tongue from lashing them all, and I was successful until, I lost it and reminded me German lunch mate that before the WAR they used to drive on the left side too! OH, you would have thought I turned into Basil Fawlty, you would.
"If you aare going to bring up var, vot you take me for you zink I will zit here and lizen?" And me German acquaintance got up and left, leaving behind his plate and cup for us to clean up. Yup, I'd say I insulted him, but I didn't mean to. It was a fact that was all.
"Zee you Breetish don't zink first, you let it fly and zen it comes back to bite you on your derriere, oui?" The Frenchman said taking his trash with him.
After he left, I looked at me unhelpful American counterpart.
"Well? You're bloody next. Anything to say?" I asked finishing off me dog.
"I get you," he said, "the difference between them and you and me, is that I know that everything you say is a compliment. It's the way you talk British. Now if I said any of THAT in English, then they'd know they were being insulted, but you, now you were being complimentary but they don't understand British speak. That's how you Brits are, if you spoke English instead of British, you'd be ok. " He said all smiles with his superiour knowledge of the English language.
"Uh . . . right." I had nothing to say. No, no I was done, over, finished, complete. There was no telling this idiot I WAS speaking English and that he had it all wrong, but why bother? I got up and took the German's mess along with me own and left the American there to ponder the backward British speak.
I was so out of it that when I went back to take a seat for the next lecture I was oblivious I had sat down next to me former German lunchmate. He had his fingers laced over his amble beer belly and sighed as I looked over to him. I did apologise for unwittingly offending him. He accepted it and we sat there making small talk as we waited. I was looking at the stage and was vaguely aware of someone taking the seat on me other side. I casually looked over and saw it was the Frenchman. He leaned forward to take a smiling look at the German who looked at him with a partial sneer and then reached across me and shook his hand. Well, that was better, we three sat there in international harmony until the seat in front of me was taken by . . . guess who? Yup, the American had come in with a bag of crisps. It clearly was posted no food in the room, but hey, this is America. Right. He turned around and grinned at the three of us and offered us his crisps. We all politely refused, but the Frenchman couldn't let it go.
"Not zee kind I eeat. We from Paree, do not eeat zee chippies in zee baggie, oh noo onlee zee snails and froog leggis in zee baggie zo . . ." and he waved the bag away. The American looked stunned and turned around (I am sure) grossed out at the idea of deep fried and salted snail and frog leg combo in a crisps bag. The German chuckled and the Frenchman was satisfied. I was just glad it finally shut the instigating American up.
Gabe
Copyright © 2011 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
OK, I don't like to say anything bad about other people, but I was driven to the brink of insanity today by three people who nearly drove me over the edge. It all started at a conference for international journalism that I actually paid money to attend. It started off well enough, you know the HELLO MY NAME IS ---- tags and complimentary coffee and first lecture and off it went.
By lunchtime, we all herded into a makeshift cafe' in the hotel hallway where we all got a plate banquet style, selected our food and then found a table. Since most of the attendees did not know each other, we sat with whomever. Well, I sat with whomever, one whomever from France, one from Germany, one from here. I was the only Brit at the table and I was accused by the American of not speaking ENGLISH. Yup.
It started like this, I asked if I could join them and the German said, "Vell, vee dunt no eachh utter so zit." I introduced meself and sat down.
"Vot izz dat yah haf on yer plate? It lookz like ze brotwurssshttt yah?" He asked.
"No, hot dog, American hot dog," I said squeezing mustard from a packet on top of the HOT DOG.
"I don't know how you can eat zos zings zey fill zee casing zwit dog meat . . . " The Frenchman commented.
"Don't you eat frogs?" The American asked with a chuckle, "Frog sandwich on a baguette?"
"Zat iz froog leggis. Not zee whole a' ze froog, no!" The Frenchman countered.
Oh my, I thought already we were off to a culinary start that was unappetising and tense. I took a bite as the German said to me, "Vot izz brotwurssshttt vit outen a goot German beer?"
Indeed, I smiled but the American couldn't let it go.
"Coke-A-Cola. Hot dogs and Coke." He said biting into his hamburger.
The German ignored him and focused on the Frenchman.
"I nevah could undah stond how you Frunchhh could eat Fhroogs." He said to the Frenchman.
"Zee problem you all zeem tooo havvve iz zat WE DO NOT EAT ZEE ENTIRE FROOG. Jus zee leggis."
"Well, you do eat nasty snails too," the American threw in.
The Frenchman sighed, he wasn't in the mood, but he wasn't going to back down either.
"You Americans zink jus becauss you havv zee hot a doggis, zat you are culinary experts," and he rolled his eyes.
"Wait a minute," I said, "I like hot dogs but in defence of him," (I impolitely gestured toward the American) "hot dogs may not be a culinary wonder but they certainly taste bloody better than say . . . German beer!" I forgot who I was sitting with, yes I did and if you think me German lunch mate was letting THAT go by . . . think again.
"VHAAT?" He nearly roared. "Engleesh beers zare veak and piddlee!"
"No, no they are full-bodied and bloody tasty." I countered, a mouthful of hot dog.
"Bloody? Yuck." The American was uninvited, throwing in an unasked-for comment that did nothing but annoy me.
"No, not bloody bloody, it's a Brit expression," I said to him.
"I don't understand British, why can't you speak English?" He said to me open-mouthed horror.
"Oo la la," the Frenchman laughed, "speak Breetish, not Englese . . . hahaha!"
"And you guys wear funny hats with moustaches." The American said all smug suddenly to the Frenchman.
"Huts zit mustashees? I don't zink zo, the Breetish wear funny huts zit zee fur, fur huts zee soldeeairs wear at zee palass . . . when zey are not drinking zee tea." The Frenchman finished.
"Hey!" I said, "We do not sit around in bloody furry hats drinking tea all day."
"Goot for you British, no haats, no zitting round zipping tea, instead you fill beer housens vit veak beer an zats vot you do bhast."
I sighed looking at me German lunchmate and shaking me head. What was I to do with him? He insisted German beer was better than British and would not back down. When he had completely trounced me on beer, he went so far as to say that German engineering made far superiour motors especially over BMW's and for me not to say a word, there was no debate. But the American couldn't keep still.
"An American invented the CAR." The American just had to jump in.
"Yah mean Enry Fhord? Zo? Vee Germans made it bettah!" This emphasised with a finger in the air.
"Donut forget the Breetish drive zee motor cars un zee wrong sides of zee road." The Frenchman commented wiping his mouth and then laughing.
"Yeah, what's up with that British guy?" The American asked me.
"No von vit half zee brain drives on zee left." The German said smugly looking at me down his nose.
I sat there lips pressed together trying to keep me tongue from lashing them all, and I was successful until, I lost it and reminded me German lunch mate that before the WAR they used to drive on the left side too! OH, you would have thought I turned into Basil Fawlty, you would.
"If you aare going to bring up var, vot you take me for you zink I will zit here and lizen?" And me German acquaintance got up and left, leaving behind his plate and cup for us to clean up. Yup, I'd say I insulted him, but I didn't mean to. It was a fact that was all.
"Zee you Breetish don't zink first, you let it fly and zen it comes back to bite you on your derriere, oui?" The Frenchman said taking his trash with him.
After he left, I looked at me unhelpful American counterpart.
"Well? You're bloody next. Anything to say?" I asked finishing off me dog.
"I get you," he said, "the difference between them and you and me, is that I know that everything you say is a compliment. It's the way you talk British. Now if I said any of THAT in English, then they'd know they were being insulted, but you, now you were being complimentary but they don't understand British speak. That's how you Brits are, if you spoke English instead of British, you'd be ok. " He said all smiles with his superiour knowledge of the English language.
"Uh . . . right." I had nothing to say. No, no I was done, over, finished, complete. There was no telling this idiot I WAS speaking English and that he had it all wrong, but why bother? I got up and took the German's mess along with me own and left the American there to ponder the backward British speak.
I was so out of it that when I went back to take a seat for the next lecture I was oblivious I had sat down next to me former German lunchmate. He had his fingers laced over his amble beer belly and sighed as I looked over to him. I did apologise for unwittingly offending him. He accepted it and we sat there making small talk as we waited. I was looking at the stage and was vaguely aware of someone taking the seat on me other side. I casually looked over and saw it was the Frenchman. He leaned forward to take a smiling look at the German who looked at him with a partial sneer and then reached across me and shook his hand. Well, that was better, we three sat there in international harmony until the seat in front of me was taken by . . . guess who? Yup, the American had come in with a bag of crisps. It clearly was posted no food in the room, but hey, this is America. Right. He turned around and grinned at the three of us and offered us his crisps. We all politely refused, but the Frenchman couldn't let it go.
"Not zee kind I eeat. We from Paree, do not eeat zee chippies in zee baggie, oh noo onlee zee snails and froog leggis in zee baggie zo . . ." and he waved the bag away. The American looked stunned and turned around (I am sure) grossed out at the idea of deep fried and salted snail and frog leg combo in a crisps bag. The German chuckled and the Frenchman was satisfied. I was just glad it finally shut the instigating American up.
Gabe
Copyright © 2011 All rights reserved
3 comments:
Can you teach me to speak British?LOL
Yeah, why can't you speak English Gabe? LMAO
Go on with both of ya!
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