This one ended up being a total moment for me. I'm still not quite sure what happened, though I do know it seemed to amuse the people at the coffee house.
Background: While I speak several languages passably well, I'm trying to learn to write in Japanese. It's stupid really, I can understand if it's spoken to me, but when I see the Hiranga, I just draw a blank. So, I'm taking a pretty advanced course to learn that. Part of this course is homework that consists of a table of japanese words (phonetically spelled) that I have to translate into Hiranga. They're very repetitive, with some of the words actually repeating within the work. Typically there's 200 or 300 words on a sheet.
Having nothing else better to do, I decided to head into town to do a bit of study work. I needed to review, as I keep mixing up the symbols for chi and shu, as well as a few of the other sounds. So, I took my notebook and papers with me, camped out in a chair with a good cup of coffee, and went to work.
After about a good fifteen minutes or so, this couple come in arm in arm. Now, I don't want to be stereotypical when I describe them, but the best thing I could say is...redneck, with a nice heaping of trailer trash. That fits them just about right. Waddling up to the counter, this couple order "Lates" (they couldn't pronounce Latte) and then turn to find a seat. As they near, I tried to go back to my notes, but eventually had to stand so they could squeeze past me and sit on the table directly behind mine. Since I was up, I decided to head into the bathroom, leaving my notes behind.
You know, looking back at this I realize now that I should have been more angry. I mean, what I'm about to tell you is still fresh in my mind, but I just can't fathom some moron doing this.
Either way, as I return I note that "hubby" is giving me this sour look, and my notes are scattered a bit on the table. As I sit down it takes me a moment to shuffle my papers, figure out where I was, and start writing again. During this time I could practically feel the glare he and his...well I hope it was a woman, I still find I'm not sure... While his woman stared at me.
Another minute passes, during which he clears his throat a few times, apparently trying to get my attention. Finally I look to him and he speaks. (picture Boomhauer from King of the Hill and you've got the accent this guy had down pat.)
WARNING: Rude and obscene language, as well as racial slurs pending.
"I don't know who you think you are Achmed, but we don't want your kind in here! We don't need no damn r-- heads here, so if you knew what was good for you you'd get your stinking ass up and out of here before I have to kick it myself."
Putting my pen down I just stared at the guy, after a second I started to speak but was cut off by him.
"What, you deaf. Don't understand ENGLISH Achmed!? Damn r-- heads, I know your type. Down here writing those plans of yours to bomb something. I bet you're one of them there sleeper cells. Where are you from Achmed? Iran? You look like it..."
My only reply to him was, in a thick southern drawl. "Selma...Alabama." Picking up my papers, I quietly started to clean up, but couldn't leave without one last snipe at him.
"You know, I guess it's true. Rednecks really Can't read. I mean, if you could, you'd have noticed the top of my paper here that you pawed over. The one that reads "Japanese Homework." "
There was no standing ovation, no clapping of hands. I quietly walked out, leaving him and his...gosh I hope that was a woman. His whatever to sit and stew.
It is worth noting: I am 6'8" tall, have blue black hair, covered in freckles, speak with a THICK southern accent, and happen to hail from a place far deeper in the south than Georgia.
Background: While I speak several languages passably well, I'm trying to learn to write in Japanese. It's stupid really, I can understand if it's spoken to me, but when I see the Hiranga, I just draw a blank. So, I'm taking a pretty advanced course to learn that. Part of this course is homework that consists of a table of japanese words (phonetically spelled) that I have to translate into Hiranga. They're very repetitive, with some of the words actually repeating within the work. Typically there's 200 or 300 words on a sheet.
Having nothing else better to do, I decided to head into town to do a bit of study work. I needed to review, as I keep mixing up the symbols for chi and shu, as well as a few of the other sounds. So, I took my notebook and papers with me, camped out in a chair with a good cup of coffee, and went to work.
After about a good fifteen minutes or so, this couple come in arm in arm. Now, I don't want to be stereotypical when I describe them, but the best thing I could say is...redneck, with a nice heaping of trailer trash. That fits them just about right. Waddling up to the counter, this couple order "Lates" (they couldn't pronounce Latte) and then turn to find a seat. As they near, I tried to go back to my notes, but eventually had to stand so they could squeeze past me and sit on the table directly behind mine. Since I was up, I decided to head into the bathroom, leaving my notes behind.
You know, looking back at this I realize now that I should have been more angry. I mean, what I'm about to tell you is still fresh in my mind, but I just can't fathom some moron doing this.
Either way, as I return I note that "hubby" is giving me this sour look, and my notes are scattered a bit on the table. As I sit down it takes me a moment to shuffle my papers, figure out where I was, and start writing again. During this time I could practically feel the glare he and his...well I hope it was a woman, I still find I'm not sure... While his woman stared at me.
Another minute passes, during which he clears his throat a few times, apparently trying to get my attention. Finally I look to him and he speaks. (picture Boomhauer from King of the Hill and you've got the accent this guy had down pat.)
WARNING: Rude and obscene language, as well as racial slurs pending.
"I don't know who you think you are Achmed, but we don't want your kind in here! We don't need no damn r-- heads here, so if you knew what was good for you you'd get your stinking ass up and out of here before I have to kick it myself."
Putting my pen down I just stared at the guy, after a second I started to speak but was cut off by him.
"What, you deaf. Don't understand ENGLISH Achmed!? Damn r-- heads, I know your type. Down here writing those plans of yours to bomb something. I bet you're one of them there sleeper cells. Where are you from Achmed? Iran? You look like it..."
My only reply to him was, in a thick southern drawl. "Selma...Alabama." Picking up my papers, I quietly started to clean up, but couldn't leave without one last snipe at him.
"You know, I guess it's true. Rednecks really Can't read. I mean, if you could, you'd have noticed the top of my paper here that you pawed over. The one that reads "Japanese Homework." "
There was no standing ovation, no clapping of hands. I quietly walked out, leaving him and his...gosh I hope that was a woman. His whatever to sit and stew.
It is worth noting: I am 6'8" tall, have blue black hair, covered in freckles, speak with a THICK southern accent, and happen to hail from a place far deeper in the south than Georgia.
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