MYSPACE: [May 4, 2007] A WHOLE OTHER LANGUAGE
[May 4, 2007] A WHOLE OTHER LANGUAGE
Current mood: jubilant
Category: Life
This weekend, Paul, my son Christopher and I went to Pahrump, Nevada. Paul put in practice days at the race track there. A couple of guys Paul knows went in their SUV, too. One of them named Chris was English. Chris had an accent similar to my stepfather. It turned out, Chris, just like my stepfather, was from Kent.
Listening to a few of his Britishisms, I was reminded of a time when I was thirteen. My American mother, British stepfather, brother, grandmother and best friend Michelle and I went car camping. My parents were checking out timeshare vacation property in northern California. It was a lovely spot up in the mountains near a lake called Pine Mountain. We set up our three tents near our reserved parking space. Up the hill a piece, there was a latrine with those heavy metal doors that resounded all through the campground. Further down the road, was a swimming pool and club house with snackbar. This is where my friend Michelle and I found a couple of cute guys our age the first day and hung out most of the week at the pool hoping they'd show up again. Fortunately, they did, quite a bit.
Our second night there of camping, no one could sleep because a group of drunks (two men and three women or so) were going in and out of the restrooms, banging those doors, and talking way too loud. The noise was horrendous, where we could hear every stupid word they slurred, as the sound poured into the camping area louder than they heard it. They wouldn't shut up or leave the bathroom and it seemed like this annoying group planned on partying all night in the latrine. After twenty minutes or so, my stepfather couldn't take it any more. He threw off his sleeping bag and threw on his clothes and fumed, "I'm putting a stop to this."
Michelle, my brother and I were in another tent. "This is going to be good," I said. We all nodded in agreement and covered our mouths to hold back the giggles.We did not want to miss a single word exchanged. To our delight my stepfather did not let us down. His Britishisms were in rare form.
"Hey, there's an awful lot of us trying to get to sleep down down there. Do you think you could keep it down?" he said. There was nothing out of the ordinary there. We waited.
The drunk said, "We ain't doing nothing wrong. And what's it to you, any way?"
My stepfather said, "Oh, why don't you belt up!"
That was it. What we'd been waiting for. We choked down the laughter. We had to hear what the drunk would say to that.
"Belt up? Belt up?" he slurred. "Where are you from?"
That took everything in us not to belly laugh. We had to hear what my stepfather would say next.
"Never you mind," he said and returned to camp.
That's when we threw our faces into our pillows and laughed like hell.
Fortunately, for my stepfather, those drunks did belt up and we got a good night's sleep.
My husband shared my story with Chris. Chris laughed and said, "It's like a whole other language."
Current mood: jubilant
Category: Life
This weekend, Paul, my son Christopher and I went to Pahrump, Nevada. Paul put in practice days at the race track there. A couple of guys Paul knows went in their SUV, too. One of them named Chris was English. Chris had an accent similar to my stepfather. It turned out, Chris, just like my stepfather, was from Kent.
Listening to a few of his Britishisms, I was reminded of a time when I was thirteen. My American mother, British stepfather, brother, grandmother and best friend Michelle and I went car camping. My parents were checking out timeshare vacation property in northern California. It was a lovely spot up in the mountains near a lake called Pine Mountain. We set up our three tents near our reserved parking space. Up the hill a piece, there was a latrine with those heavy metal doors that resounded all through the campground. Further down the road, was a swimming pool and club house with snackbar. This is where my friend Michelle and I found a couple of cute guys our age the first day and hung out most of the week at the pool hoping they'd show up again. Fortunately, they did, quite a bit.
Our second night there of camping, no one could sleep because a group of drunks (two men and three women or so) were going in and out of the restrooms, banging those doors, and talking way too loud. The noise was horrendous, where we could hear every stupid word they slurred, as the sound poured into the camping area louder than they heard it. They wouldn't shut up or leave the bathroom and it seemed like this annoying group planned on partying all night in the latrine. After twenty minutes or so, my stepfather couldn't take it any more. He threw off his sleeping bag and threw on his clothes and fumed, "I'm putting a stop to this."
Michelle, my brother and I were in another tent. "This is going to be good," I said. We all nodded in agreement and covered our mouths to hold back the giggles.We did not want to miss a single word exchanged. To our delight my stepfather did not let us down. His Britishisms were in rare form.
"Hey, there's an awful lot of us trying to get to sleep down down there. Do you think you could keep it down?" he said. There was nothing out of the ordinary there. We waited.
The drunk said, "We ain't doing nothing wrong. And what's it to you, any way?"
My stepfather said, "Oh, why don't you belt up!"
That was it. What we'd been waiting for. We choked down the laughter. We had to hear what the drunk would say to that.
"Belt up? Belt up?" he slurred. "Where are you from?"
That took everything in us not to belly laugh. We had to hear what my stepfather would say next.
"Never you mind," he said and returned to camp.
That's when we threw our faces into our pillows and laughed like hell.
Fortunately, for my stepfather, those drunks did belt up and we got a good night's sleep.
My husband shared my story with Chris. Chris laughed and said, "It's like a whole other language."
posted by Elizabeth Van Cleve Randolph | 10:09 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home