I've recently noticed that these blog postings have been taking on a certain repeating style and subject matter. Basically, I take a seemingly mundane and somewhat humorous anecdote from my adventures in this Big Apple and then more or less put to print my general thoughts about said subject, elaborating on the topic in some way. This update will be no different. As they say (who they is I'm not positive... "I" is they in this case I guess)... So as they (I) say, "If it aint broke don't fix it!" Oh rest assured, I shant.
Anywhoodle...
This week I have been hit over the head repeatedly with the most challenging problem I've been faced with while living in New York, that is, understanding anything that comes out of the mouth of this city's inhabitants. Now, I'm not talking about "understanding" on a more metaphorical level. It's not as if everybody I speak with, which I must say is rare to begin with, says something so complex and intelligent that I can't grasp what they are getting at. No, it's really understanding at it's most base level, meaning I literally can't determine what words are coming out of the speaker's mouth. I don't know what it is or why it happens so frequently, but nine times out of ten I find myself completely dumbfounded by people's speech and end up asking myself, "What the hell did that guy (or girl) just say?" To make it more clear I'll draw on an example from Scripture. It's like you're standing in this crowd of people listening to the disciples preach after the Pentecost. Only, instead of hearing foreign languages you hear them speaking a strange hybrid mutation of your own. You inquisitively ask your buddy Josiah, "What the hell'd that guy Peter just say?" He replies, "Huh? Oh I don't know." Thus, instead of being able to hear what is being said and being amazed at the content, you become distracted and can only understand enough to know that it's in some weird way your native tongue being used and you therefore can only be amazed at how badly somebody could twist, garble, mangle and butcher it. That's exactly what I experience everyday. Thank God the Holy Spirit knew what it was doing, huh?
[For the real story see The Acts of the Apostles Chapter 2]
Perhaps it has something to do my frequent visits to fast food restaurants these days ( Wendy's in particular suffers greatest from this language plague for some reason). I know this because during a similar period of increased fast food consumption back home I encountered this peculiar situation with Chris, at a Wendy's no less. Luckily one of Chris' spiritual gifts, among many others, is interpretation of jumbled fast food tongues and he quickly replied, "That's alright, we don't need a cup-holder, thanks," when all I heard was, "Wancha cuptchtoholyer?"
Allow me to indulge you with a more recent example of this phenomena. A few days ago after a sterling and very free Calexico show, again at Wendy's, Josh and I stood in line waiting to order a few deliciously square patty'd treats when the fellow behind the counter, let's call him Jamal, stepped forward to help us. Here is what took place:
Jamal- "Can I hellswon?"
Josh and I- ::Puzzled::
Jamal- ::Looking at us:: "Can I hellswon?"
Josh and I- ::Wonder if he's talking to us::
Jamal- ::Drawing out his words to be understood more clearly:: "Caaaaan IIIII Heellllssswwon?"
Josh and I- ::Looking at each other with bewilderment::
Josh- "Is he talking to us?"
I (Me)- "I think so, but I don't know what he is saying."
Jamal- ::Becoming angry:: "Mah I hellswon?"
I (Me)- "Okay he must be talking to us."
Jamal- ::Points at us then the register while saying:: "MAHHH IIII HELLLSWWWON!!!!"
Josh and I- ::Realizing he is trying to say "Can I help someone?" and "May I help someone?" we step up to the reg."
Josh and I had a real good laugh then ordered and proceeded to watch this exact scenario played out no joke 15 times, leading to greater and more uproarious laughter. I was most amazed that Jamal never got more frustrated with people than he did with us. He must have had an an anger governor that kicked in at a certain point. Either that or it was a bit he devised to make himself laugh when he got home after a hard day's work at Ol' *Dave's Place (*Dave Thomas). If this is the case he got us, and at least the 15 customers after us, damn good.
Perhaps you've had a similar encounter and have been at a loss for what to do and how to better understand what is being said to you. If that is the case I offer you these simple steps...
1. Take a good survey of your surroundings and contextualize what might be being said. (If we made good notice of the fact that we were in line at a Wendy's it may have shed some light on the situation.)
2. Be patient.
3. Don't be too quick to jump to a conclusion. It would be foolish, not to mention embarrassing, to arrive at a wrong conclusion in your frantic search to make sense of the speaker. (Example: "Wancha cuptchtoholyer?" "Uhhhh... Sure, I want to cup your boulders!" Talk about foot in the mouth. Not only will you not get a possibly much needed "cup-holder" but you basically just implied that the drive through employee was soliciting you for sex. Uh oh!
4. Lastly, give the person a break. It would be easy to become frustrated or even angered by such a situation but after serving people all damn day don't they deserve to be cut some slack. I thought so.
Follow these basic principles and you'll be well on your way to interpreting all sorts of confusing phrases. Let's try it out together.
Setting: China Town
Plot: A man follows you around holding a piece of paper and pulling your shirt saying "Haaaaahbag, haaaaahbag, haaaaahbag..."
Let's be patient, give the guy a break, not jump to conclusions, and realize that we are in fact in China Town.
Aha! He is obviously saying "Handbag, handbag, handbag."
"No sir, I would not like a handbag!!!"
We did it!!! Congratulations us!
Other practical applications include: Street vendors, cab drivers, urban kids who overuse 80's lingo including but not limited to the word "mad" (similar to the Disco deal but with words [See "On the Death of Disco..."]), babies, people on the subway, people who work at Subway, and people who are on your elevator who sound exactly like Mickey from Snatch (actually I'm not sure anything could help anybody understand this guy.
That's that. I hope in some way that helped.
In other news, my roommate and I have returned to speaking to each other after a viewing of Gladiator. Nothing says male camaraderie like watching overly brutal scenes of dismemberment. Our dialogue it did exist, albeit briefly, while discussing many a pressing topic brought up by watching Ridley Scott's take on the fall of the Pax Romana. I know this is a small victory but it's a step in the right direction. If things go according to plan we'll have our first real "bit" by December. Fingers crossed!
That's all she wrote (or he). Sorry in advance for the length of this post. Although by the time you read this far the aforementioned apology will no longer be in advance. Oh well, can't say I didn't try.
Until next time ragazzi e ragazze...
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1 comment:
My friend, if you only had the slightest idea as to how well I understand what you are going through. Here in Kenya they butcher my mother tongue with pride. When I call them out on it they simply reply by telling me "we speak British English." But I am sorry to say that the British never say "Hi too" after you say hello to them. Stay strong my friend, the Lord will pull us through
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