I fondly recall an incident when I was driving lost with strangers in my car and it all worked out as thought I hadn't being lost as thought I knew, I knew how to get around in NYC.
I had met these people the late afternoon before, at central park's big lawn. There to see a free Pavarotti's Parmalat sponsored concert.
It was three od them, an older Italian exporter from Venezuela and his young Venezuelan girlfriend with what I later learned was their NYC hostess Dominican hottie.
They were staying at the Marriot near the theater where Letterman does his show. I was to pick them up from the Hotel, the next morning, to maybe go sightseeing or whatever.
The older Italian guy was an opera fan, knew his stuff. I found them, squatting ploded? down on beach towels. We got there early, near the front, so we weren't necessarily close to each other. But as people started arriving we ended up close as though I was in their party. Which worked out ok because the Dominican girl was alone.
We enjoyed the concert drank wine and ate cheese they had brought and I promised to pick them up the next day.
I only knew my was around Manhattan and just barely.
The hottie, I don't remember her name, lived in Queens near JFK.
When they saw my beat up red VW GTI we weren't going sightseeing in that, they must have thought. I cant say as I blamed them. The front windshield had a crack that must have unsettled them, now that I think back on it.
I old her look, I've never gotten lost. I knew my around. but I said in that way lost people say they are not lost.
To demonstrate to them I wasn't lost, I got off the road we were on, I must have thought I better make it look like I know where I'm going.
I knew we were going in the right direction but I really had no idea.
By providential luck or something close to the unexplainable the road I wound up on was a road that took us to the neighborhood next to the neighborhood we were trying to find our way.
The road was the Roberto Clemente. I had never been on that road and the hottie was unfamiliar with it also. the couple from Venezuela sat in the back unpanicked. Thank God for that Italian guy because it kept me from loosing my cool.
The hottie wanted me to stop and ask for directions. And there was just no chance of me doing that.
At the other end of Roberto Clemente she opened her eyes smiled and said in Spanish, "Ya yo se, ya yo se". I know, I know where we are.
I tried to make it sound as thought I had been in command all along. But it was difficult because the command had to convey a certain vulnerability at the same time I was pretending to know where I was I was also interested in letting her know I was interested in getting directions from her. A tricky proposition.
I always get asked for directions, no matter where I am. A chinese woman asked me for directions in the middle of London. It was my first time in London.
Now, that is funny, because it is considered a classic short skit. I cannot defend it. I'm American. It's not funny to me either, but hilarious to British. They tell you why exactly in comments on YouTube. If you read them you will agree with their remarks, will not see the expression @ .14 sec. as priceless, the timing flawless, none of that matters to you but it is everything to them.
Lem, you just now explained why the Cuban people I stopped and asked directions treated me so kindly as if I were special. The one man was unusually nice, looking back at it, as if he were speaking to a straight up retard. Also my Spanish sounds like a child. A dumb child.
18 comments:
I hate asking for directions.
In our culture, where my parents and I come from, I got the sense people who got lost where thought of as not all there.
So you never admitted to being lost. never.
I fondly recall an incident when I was driving lost with strangers in my car and it all worked out as thought I hadn't being lost as thought I knew, I knew how to get around in NYC.
I had met these people the late afternoon before, at central park's big lawn. There to see a free Pavarotti's Parmalat sponsored concert.
It was three od them, an older Italian exporter from Venezuela and his young Venezuelan girlfriend with what I later learned was their NYC hostess Dominican hottie.
They were staying at the Marriot near the theater where Letterman does his show. I was to pick them up from the Hotel, the next morning, to maybe go sightseeing or whatever.
The older Italian guy was an opera fan, knew his stuff. I found them, squatting ploded? down on beach towels. We got there early, near the front, so we weren't necessarily close to each other. But as people started arriving we ended up close as though I was in their party. Which worked out ok because the Dominican girl was alone.
We enjoyed the concert drank wine and ate cheese they had brought and I promised to pick them up the next day.
I only knew my was around Manhattan and just barely.
The hottie, I don't remember her name, lived in Queens near JFK.
When they saw my beat up red VW GTI we weren't going sightseeing in that, they must have thought. I cant say as I blamed them. The front windshield had a crack that must have unsettled them, now that I think back on it.
So we decided to go to the hotties house, which I later learned was her mom's, in Queens.
There was no GPS at that time. And the idea of me opening up a map to look fro directions was inconceivable.
I told the hottie to lead the way.
Of course in no time at all I had missed an exit ramp and I just kept on driving as thought everything was fine. The hottie was panicking.
I old her look, I've never gotten lost. I knew my around. but I said in that way lost people say they are not lost.
To demonstrate to them I wasn't lost, I got off the road we were on, I must have thought I better make it look like I know where I'm going.
I knew we were going in the right direction but I really had no idea.
By providential luck or something close to the unexplainable the road I wound up on was a road that took us to the neighborhood next to the neighborhood we were trying to find our way.
The road was the Roberto Clemente. I had never been on that road and the hottie was unfamiliar with it also. the couple from Venezuela sat in the back unpanicked. Thank God for that Italian guy because it kept me from loosing my cool.
The hottie wanted me to stop and ask for directions. And there was just no chance of me doing that.
At the other end of Roberto Clemente she opened her eyes smiled and said in Spanish, "Ya yo se, ya yo se". I know, I know where we are.
I tried to make it sound as thought I had been in command all along. But it was difficult because the command had to convey a certain vulnerability at the same time I was pretending to know where I was I was also interested in letting her know I was interested in getting directions from her. A tricky proposition.
Correction: I got my baseball legend, roads named after, crossed up. It was the Jacky Robinson Parkway.
I got Roberto Clemente and Jacky Robinson crossed up.
Is there is a whiff of racism there, or do I have a get out of jail free pass because I'm HisPanic.
I'm his panic and not her panic.
Is that what it is?
God handed everything over to Eve. Eve all about Eve. and the evil that men do. how does that go again.
Thanks for that video ChipA.
Awfully early to be that drunk, Lem.
Why was there a laugh track on that clip? There was nothing funny about it.
"Awfully early to be that drunk, Lem."
I don't often write so it must come as a shock to you if and when I do.
But that's ok, you just keep commenting.
Give the bloke a gless tay why donchya, you great lummox!
I always get asked for directions, no matter where I am. A chinese woman asked me for directions in the middle of London. It was my first time in London.
Doesn't the old guy look like Jack Albertson?
Nothing funny about it.
Ha!
Now, that is funny, because it is considered a classic short skit. I cannot defend it. I'm American. It's not funny to me either, but hilarious to British. They tell you why exactly in comments on YouTube. If you read them you will agree with their remarks, will not see the expression @ .14 sec. as priceless, the timing flawless, none of that matters to you but it is everything to them.
Lem, you just now explained why the Cuban people I stopped and asked directions treated me so kindly as if I were special. The one man was unusually nice, looking back at it, as if he were speaking to a straight up retard. Also my Spanish sounds like a child. A dumb child.
I meant to say you will, "not" agree with their remarks on YouTube.
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