Sweet mother of all things travel-ly-ish, I have been on the road way too much for me.
First, back home to see family and friends for the weekend only to be fashionably traumatized by my dude wearing his mandals on most of the trip.
(Mandals = Man Sandals. Get it?)
About 2 days after that little jaunt across the great state of Tejas, the work joint sent me to the way south. Like right on the border south kind-of-way-south.
(Now, if you hook up with me on Facebook, you’d kinda know this stuff.)
(Hit that pink and black Facebook button up there to the right.)
But I’m cool with it because I probably know enough Spanish to get me around.
There is one more Spanish word I kinda know but didn’t know I kinda knew it until a former boss of mine made me wish I kinda didn’t know it.
Living in Texas, there’s a lot of Spanish words flying around. And that’s all good, but come on. I know little to none.
And you know I’ve GOT to be in the know.
(Could I possibly use the word “know” any more?)
So, to remedy that, I just make it easy and any word I need to make Spanish, I just add “El” to the front and “O” to the back.
And allllll my Spanish speaking friends as well as my non-Spanish speaking friends know this.
Back in around 2004, I moved to Austin when I divorced and did little more than cry a lot. I dried up the tears long enough though, to get a job.
And it was great. And the people were fun. And my boss was the bombest of all bosses of bomb-ish bosses.
And eventually, I only cried at night!
Things were looking up!
The boss spoke Spanish. Fluently.
Not to me, but on the phone and to customers who only spoke Spanish and such.
But to me? Lilly-white-southern-girl-twangy-English only.
He was cool. We really had a fantastic working relationship. Good family man, good heart, just a very sincere and genuine man.
So, one day I decided to try out my small knowledge of Spanish on him.
The phone rang so I said, “Hey, I’ll answer the el-phone-o so you can get to that el-meeting-o.”
Then came, “I’m going to pick up el-something-o for el-lunch-o, you want anything?”
And well, you get it.
He even started using my own special Spanish with me and it’s like we had our very own language that nobody else could understand but I know they did because how hard is it to translate an English word made Spanish by simply adding ‘el’ and ‘o’ to the English part?
I mean, really.
There was this onnnnne day….
He saved my butt on something I jacked up and didn’t get mad or flustered or even ask to discuss it with me. He just kept on keeping on.
But I felt bad about it, and I went in his office and said, “I am so sorry…I really jacked that up. It will not happen again.”
He just smiled his big, giant smile and said, “Please. We all jack things up from time to time. It’s all good, don’t worry one bit about it.”
I still felt bad. This day couldn’t get any worse.
And as I turned and walked out of his office and entered the main office where all the other people working were, I said…OUT LOUD…
“Dan, you are one el-cool-o dude!”
And I could hear gasps. And I could hear silence. And I could hear my ass puckering. Cause something apparently wasn’t right.
I turned and looked back in his office….in slow, slow motion….and he has his head down in his hands. He looks up at me shaking his head and says, “You have no clue what you just said, do you?”
(Apparently, this day just got worse.)
(And it must be pretty obvious when an idiot is being an idiot.)
I went beet red. My face was so on fire it was this close to blowing off my neck.
(This close = Small smidgen)
I immediately prayed to die and at that point didn’t care what I said because apparently it was something that shouldn’t have been said but yet I said it and it was out in the universe and I couldn’t suck it back down my Dorito chute to save my soul now.
Here’s a hint:
Me and my special Spanish.
“You just called me an ass.”
The blood drained from my about-to-blow-off-my-neck face and I could feel my eyes burning.
One of the guys yelled out from his office, “Somebody’s been needing to do it!”
And the boss started laughing and could barely breathe and the rest of the office just bellowed out screaming and pointing and thank-the-good-Lord-of-all-jackassy-things-I’ve-done in this little lifetime, this went over well.
(Thank you, Jesus…in English.)
(Thank you, Jesus…in Spanish.)
It’s quite evident I know more Spanish than I originally thought:
“Hello, there’s a chicken in the bathroom with a beer, you ass.”
However, it’s probably best the work joint limit my travels.
For their el-sake-o.
Feel like living on the edge?
Just enter your email up there in the top right corner, where it says “email” (duh) and I’ll blow up your inbox with my wisdom.
Cause really…who doesn’t want THAT??