"Hey, guys. Want to come back to our place?" Brandee wondered.
"Yeah. It's still early. Come on over," Jerry stated.
"Okay. Sure," I said, looking at Rudy for confirmation. He nodded.
We had just been to El Cantina, a bar. For the evening. For fun. The four of us. Young adults. Hanging out.
Back at their place, as the early morning hours tick-tocked passed, while Rudy and Jerry were deep in conversation, I decided it was time for me to head home. It was late. I was tired.
Rudy would have to find his own way home. Or just crash on their couch.
"I will see you later, Brandee," I said to my good friend.
"Call me when you get home. Just to let me know you made it there safely," she requested.
"Will do," I responded.
I looked across the room, towards Rudy and Jerry. Overheard a bit of their heavy conversation.
"Well, I was born here. In the United States. So I am an American," Jerry was saying to Rudy.
"What do you mean? We are both Americans," Rudy responded.
"Nah," Jerry mumbled.
"You are a North American. I am a Central American. And there are South Americans. We are all Americans," Rudy was determined to get his point across.
I walked over. Touched Rudy's arm. Kissed his cheek. And said, "See ya."
As promised, when I arrived home I called Brandee to let her know I had made it. To my parents home. Where I was living at the time.
"Oh, wait!" she said, before I had a chance to hang up. "Something is up with the guys. It sounds like they are pissed."
Just as Brandee informed me of the dispute, Rudy noticed that she was talking on the phone. And assumed it was me.
"Is that Daph? I need to talk with her!" he said, angrily.
Brandee passed him the phone.
"Daph! I need you to get back over here! Pick me up! This guy is being rude! He just called me dude!"
I laughed.
"Rudy. Dude is just like calling you man. You know like hey, man! what's up?"
I couldn't stop snickering at another lost in translation moment.
Rudy laughed into the phone.
I heard a slap.
He'd smacked his forehead.
He was embarrassed.
I could only imagine that he was having another belly laugh at another mistake he'd made. A mistake of not understanding the slang of Jerry's North American tongue.
As he was hanging up the phone I heard him shout, "Hey, dude! We're cool! I'm good! Dude!"
Jerry laughed.
So did Rudy.
"Yeah. It's still early. Come on over," Jerry stated.
"Okay. Sure," I said, looking at Rudy for confirmation. He nodded.
We had just been to El Cantina, a bar. For the evening. For fun. The four of us. Young adults. Hanging out.
Back at their place, as the early morning hours tick-tocked passed, while Rudy and Jerry were deep in conversation, I decided it was time for me to head home. It was late. I was tired.
Rudy would have to find his own way home. Or just crash on their couch.
"I will see you later, Brandee," I said to my good friend.
"Call me when you get home. Just to let me know you made it there safely," she requested.
"Will do," I responded.
I looked across the room, towards Rudy and Jerry. Overheard a bit of their heavy conversation.
"Well, I was born here. In the United States. So I am an American," Jerry was saying to Rudy.
"What do you mean? We are both Americans," Rudy responded.
"Nah," Jerry mumbled.
"You are a North American. I am a Central American. And there are South Americans. We are all Americans," Rudy was determined to get his point across.
I walked over. Touched Rudy's arm. Kissed his cheek. And said, "See ya."
As promised, when I arrived home I called Brandee to let her know I had made it. To my parents home. Where I was living at the time.
"Oh, wait!" she said, before I had a chance to hang up. "Something is up with the guys. It sounds like they are pissed."
Just as Brandee informed me of the dispute, Rudy noticed that she was talking on the phone. And assumed it was me.
"Is that Daph? I need to talk with her!" he said, angrily.
Brandee passed him the phone.
"Daph! I need you to get back over here! Pick me up! This guy is being rude! He just called me dude!"
I laughed.
"Rudy. Dude is just like calling you man. You know like hey, man! what's up?"
I couldn't stop snickering at another lost in translation moment.
Rudy laughed into the phone.
I heard a slap.
He'd smacked his forehead.
He was embarrassed.
I could only imagine that he was having another belly laugh at another mistake he'd made. A mistake of not understanding the slang of Jerry's North American tongue.
As he was hanging up the phone I heard him shout, "Hey, dude! We're cool! I'm good! Dude!"
Jerry laughed.
So did Rudy.
