We've all seen it in movies. The lights are low, soft music playing, things are moving just a little slower than usual....maybe there's a candle lit.
That's not what I am talking about.
No, I am talking about middle of the day, unnaturally bright, unseasonably hot, a sheen of sweat on bodies because of the humidity, middle of a camping store, buying a Dr Pepper...in Tennessee.
I'll back up. Sylvia and I had some friends over about a week ago. We started talking about how words were different in different languages. We talked about how German was wildly different than other languages and we all roared with laughter at the stark contrast between lyrical Spanish's butterfly (mariposa) and German's hard edged and highly exaggerated, by me, (SCHMETTERLING!). We started talking about different dialects within different regions of the country and different ways of talking. The whole exchange got me to thinking about that time, in Tennessee, when I bought a Dr Pepper...really.
It was 1982, I was 16, and the family was camping across the country so we could go to the World's Fair in Knoxville. We had already had "The night of a million mosquitoes" and I had already saved a drowning boy. I was a world traveler in my eyes. I was not, however, ready for what happened next.
I went into the campground store and grabbed a couple snacks, looked at the comic books to see if I needed any, and grabbed a Dr Pepper from the refrigerator. I brought the whole collection up to the cashier who was about the same age as me. She rang up my snacks, told me it was $1.61 (I don't really remember how much it was...I'm just trying to use details so you think I have an amazing memory), and then she asked me a question in that quick southern twang that I remember to this day. "Youwanpopinthesack?"
Let me remind you that I am, at this point, 16. I have to admit that while my upbringing had me immediately rejecting the notion that I had actually heard what I thought I heard, it took me back. My hormone addled brain, for a split second, translated her question into, "You wanna pop in the sack?"
Did I really say that I was a world traveler? Ha! I was as naive as the day is long. I was afraid of my own shadow. Shy didn't even begin to describe me. Late bloomer is how I describe myself now but let's face it....I was a doofus. I had seen enough coming-of-age movies to imagine, even for an instant, that this was the start of something. In fact, did she just take off her glasses? Did she undo her ponytail and start shaking her hair from side to side? Did she turn her head to the side and grin as she looked at me with one eye? It's weird how so many thoughts can cross your hyperactive immature brain in the span of about a two seconds. As if my entire future depended on it, I decided to act! As smoothly as I could, with a bright red face, I managed to squeak out, "Wha...?"
Back to reality in a flash while I see that she never moved, hair and glasses still in place, and her "grin" was more like an annoyed exasperation as she held up the glass bottle of Dr Pepper she said slowly, "Do you want the POP" slight shake for emphasis, "...in the SACK" now she shook the paper bag that now held my snacks. Ohhhhhhh, my brain processed, she thinks I'm a moron. That makes so much more sense than what I was thinking. From somewhere deep inside I was able to belt out proudly, "No thank you." and I was on my way.
Aren't dialects fun!
That's not what I am talking about.
No, I am talking about middle of the day, unnaturally bright, unseasonably hot, a sheen of sweat on bodies because of the humidity, middle of a camping store, buying a Dr Pepper...in Tennessee.
I'll back up. Sylvia and I had some friends over about a week ago. We started talking about how words were different in different languages. We talked about how German was wildly different than other languages and we all roared with laughter at the stark contrast between lyrical Spanish's butterfly (mariposa) and German's hard edged and highly exaggerated, by me, (SCHMETTERLING!). We started talking about different dialects within different regions of the country and different ways of talking. The whole exchange got me to thinking about that time, in Tennessee, when I bought a Dr Pepper...really.
It was 1982, I was 16, and the family was camping across the country so we could go to the World's Fair in Knoxville. We had already had "The night of a million mosquitoes" and I had already saved a drowning boy. I was a world traveler in my eyes. I was not, however, ready for what happened next.
I went into the campground store and grabbed a couple snacks, looked at the comic books to see if I needed any, and grabbed a Dr Pepper from the refrigerator. I brought the whole collection up to the cashier who was about the same age as me. She rang up my snacks, told me it was $1.61 (I don't really remember how much it was...I'm just trying to use details so you think I have an amazing memory), and then she asked me a question in that quick southern twang that I remember to this day. "Youwanpopinthesack?"
Let me remind you that I am, at this point, 16. I have to admit that while my upbringing had me immediately rejecting the notion that I had actually heard what I thought I heard, it took me back. My hormone addled brain, for a split second, translated her question into, "You wanna pop in the sack?"
Did I really say that I was a world traveler? Ha! I was as naive as the day is long. I was afraid of my own shadow. Shy didn't even begin to describe me. Late bloomer is how I describe myself now but let's face it....I was a doofus. I had seen enough coming-of-age movies to imagine, even for an instant, that this was the start of something. In fact, did she just take off her glasses? Did she undo her ponytail and start shaking her hair from side to side? Did she turn her head to the side and grin as she looked at me with one eye? It's weird how so many thoughts can cross your hyperactive immature brain in the span of about a two seconds. As if my entire future depended on it, I decided to act! As smoothly as I could, with a bright red face, I managed to squeak out, "Wha...?"
Back to reality in a flash while I see that she never moved, hair and glasses still in place, and her "grin" was more like an annoyed exasperation as she held up the glass bottle of Dr Pepper she said slowly, "Do you want the POP" slight shake for emphasis, "...in the SACK" now she shook the paper bag that now held my snacks. Ohhhhhhh, my brain processed, she thinks I'm a moron. That makes so much more sense than what I was thinking. From somewhere deep inside I was able to belt out proudly, "No thank you." and I was on my way.
Aren't dialects fun!
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