I spent the flight sitting next to Janine, watching a dumb movie called Inkheart, interspersing that with “Lord Jim” by Joseph Conrad and conversations about LOST’s upcoming season finale. Gotta love me my Des+Penny.
I’m convinced Tylenol PM is a sham, invented in collusion by doctors and Satan. It failed to put me to sleep (in a good way) on the plane and I spent about 4 hours in a bizarre intermittent zombie-sleep/notsleep period, crunched between my backpack and the lack of legroom on U.S. air flights. Icky, right? In any case, plane lands in Barcelona y todo cambio.
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Me (in broken Spanish): ….Ah….Quiero la Nécter de Piña, por favor.
Salesperson (in English): Oh, okay. That’s two euros.
I guess we’re dead giveaways for being American, right? I bought some souvenirs (mmmhmmhm….Wouldn’t you like to know what they are?) and waited for the plane to Sevilla.
Haha....oh silly American tourists. I hope that doesn't happen to much with me, though most likely considering I make an idiot of myself when I'm not in a foreign country.
ReplyDeleteOh wow, that used to happen to my dad and me when we would go to sushi bars in Japan. My dad would ask for sushi in Japanese and the waiter would simply say: "Wouldn't you rather speak English?" Embarrassing.
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