Lost In Translation

One day, as a Sophomore, Senorita Laskey pulled me and Carl Gomez into the hall during our Spanish Two class. With a somewhat wild look in her eye, she calmly suggested that for the sake of our GPA's, we should drop her class. In short, after nearly two years of teaching us, she was giving up on either of our abilities to learn the language. Me I understood. I've never picked up languages well and admittedly, I resorted to saying my H's on purpose just to annoy her. I felt more pity for Carl. I happened to know his mother spoke fluent Spanish and for crying out loud, his last name was Gomez. Both things I quickly pointed out to him while laughing, in order to make myself feel better.

As it turns out, my inability to pick up on languages hinders me even beyond high school. For instance, who knew you needed to be bilingual to go to Starbucks?

Not being a coffee drinker, I only go there like a month out of the year when it's cold enough to warrant the hot chocolate or steamed milk. So it's always a painful experience for the person taking my order since I don't know the lingo. Each time I go, I'm anxiously trying to remember my order from 11 months ago, while the line of cars is piling up behind me. It's not lost on me that the last people on the planet that I want to tick off are the caffeine starved.

Me: Yeah, um, do you still steam the milk? You know, it's like a drink?"
Drive Thru: Yes we do. (Cut off real fast like she was trying to get that out without laughing)
Me: Ok great, but do you have skim milk or is it 2%?
Drive Thur: Yes, we have skim.
Me: And last time I got this Carmel flavoring put in it, I think it was Carmel-I got it sugar free though so, wait, what other flavors do you hav--"
Drive Thru: We have Carmel. What size?
Me: Um, I never remember your sizes, I'd guess...medium-ish."
Drive Thru: So you'd like a Grande non fat sugar free Carmel steamer? Please pull forward.

That sounds so cool, I have got to write that down. Truthfully I've probably picked up more Klingon than Starbucks speak.

Another place I'm having trouble mastering the language is among those I pass on the street while running. My first inclination of course is to always smile, wave and say "hi." To me this is runner speak and translates to: Hey, you're running, I'm running, we're totally great friends for like 4 seconds because only we know how much it hurts, right?

I shouldn't be surprised that once again, I'm apparently not speaking the language. I smile and wave and they are looking any where but at me, deeply interested in a tree that has suddenly caught their attention. I have come to terms with the snubs from the bicyclists. It still hurts, but, a different club I suppose. I assumed passing a fellow runner would be similar to the bus drivers who always wave to each other.

It's the language of the bus drivers. That wave means: I'm driving a bus full of obnoxious teenagers, you're driving a bus full of obnoxious teenagers. I feel your pain friend.

I finally decided during training a few years ago that the code on the street for runners is that apparently we turn inward. We don't wave, we don't smile, we certainly don't say hi. We're tough. We don't commiserate, or make eye contact. We don't care about each other's pain because we have our own to deal with, and that's enough.

Got it. Runners language. I was down with it. That was until the first time I passed by someone with my new found stony coldness, who smiled, waved and said, "Hi." I totally ran past him with no regard or return greeting. The next quarter mile had me irrationally wanting to turn around, catch up with him, tap him on the shoulder, smile and say, "Hey there! I didn't mean to snub you just now-I was just trying out the code-I usually smile and say Hi too but people typically don't respond--I wasn't prepared for your friendliness I'm so sorry, how's your run going, good? Okay, well, keep up the good work!.."

I opted against it, deciding that it would most likely end up in a restraining order, but was racked with guilt at my rudeness. Code or no code, I decided from then on that I had to be me, no matter the cost to my feelings from all future snubs. Maybe it's not the way fellow runners communicate on the road, but heck, I like to smile and wave at people, even give them the occasional 'hi', and gosh darn it, people like me.

That's what I'm talking about...