I'll have you know that I'm the Prince of European Identity Crisis. Oh yes. To use a horrible writing cliche, 'it all began' back when I was born. But after that, I traveled to Germany and Sweden. And, suddenly and unexpectedly, on the flight back, the "Luftansa" airline attendant made a point of asking everyone on the plane what they would like to drink; I think she was really trying to offer us potable refreshments.
Several rows ahead of me (I was in tourist class in the Airbus -- I'm not that "wealthy," if you get my drift), she began asking people what they would like. In English. She slowly bumbled towards my row, riding the airline turbulence like a seasoned cowboy rides a Tennessee Walker, asking each successive row's occupants their beverage preference.
Eventually, she made it to my row. She asked me what I would like to drink. IN GERMAN. So, with my best and wittiest parlance, I replied, "Bitte ein schtillis vasserlaksjdlaksdjfoinadf," just like a good German. I also added a couple of 'yah-yahs' par excellence. Yep. Out of all the occupants in the airline ahead of me, she thought I was the most Krauty. Even the two occupants to my left and right were asked their preference in English -- they simply weren't Euro enough for her! Oh, no, they were most certainly not.
Suitably impressed and clearly assured that I spoke her native tongue, she returned with my drink. As she carried on down the aisle, nothing else was ever said between the two of us. To this day, I still assume that she's still somewhere far above us all, fording the swiftly flowing jet stream, at altitudes often exceeding 9,000 meters.
Not surprisingly, I was totally addicted to house music during the period of 1997-2002, including BlΓΌmchen, remixes of Nena, and Toy-Box. Please don't think less of me because of this, but I'd like people to think of it as extracurricular intracultural studies. Sometimes, I still watch the "Heut Ist Mein Tag" music video when I want to be generally creeped out and made to feel like I have some sort of overtly Teutonic raver-girlfriend.
2 comments:
A year ago I went to the Netherlands for my Oma's funeral and had the pleasant experience of taking a few trains. The fact that I (apparently) pronounced "Utrecht" well enough to earn full-sentence replies in Dutch shocked me. Made my throat a little sore, too.
Better eat some mints. You're speaking Dutch.
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