February 17, 2006
I need to learn Spanish.
Not a lot. I need just enough Spanish to say
“on the rocks.”
We don’t go into one of the local restaurants very often, But when we do, I seem to have a drinking problem. Every time, I order a “regular margarita, on the rocks, salt on the rim,” and every time I get something different.
The last time I was there, a regular margarita was pink.
Now, I may be wrong, but I was expecting something green. Made with tequila, lime, triple sec. Stirred, not blended.
And definitely not pink.
This time, we got a different waitress. I hoped for better.
At least it was green. But we still have the unfortunate blending problem.
When I was in high school, of all the useless languages to learn, I chose German. It was the language of my people. The tongue of the last wave of immigrants to hit our area, my grandparents included.
But the waves are still coming in. And while I can say, “I mochte ein glas beir bitte!” it does me no good. For two reasons:
1. There are no native Germans left to order from.
2. I hate beer.
What I need to be able to say is:
“I’m sorry, red wine gives me a headache.” (in French).
“Would you please take away this slushy and get me a real drink!” (in Spanish)