I swear DUmmies would brag about handing a roll of toilet paper to the guy in the next stall and expect to be praised for being such a wonderful person.
Last night, I had to deal with a couple of non-English-speaking Texans who were trying to get to South Dakota.
Of course it wouldn't have made any difference if they
did know English, because I wouldn't be able to hear them anyway.
At one point I uttered "Yankton?"
Their eyes lit up;
si, si, Yankton.
So they knew Yankton; we were finally getting somewhere.
I wanted to tell them it was 65 miles straight up the highway to Yankton, but then remembered my cousin's homeland is probably on the silly metric system, with centimeters and all that, and so "miles" wouldn't mean anything to them.
I finally said "Yankton, one hour, one hour," pointing north on the highway, my single raised index finger indicating the number. "Yankton, one hour."
They were so deliriously happy they genuflected to me.
I felt ten feet tall, being such a nice guy, such an awesomely magnanimous person, so kind and generous in helping a couple of lost strangers.
