I'm just back from Austria where a young lady with a British accent
brought me up to date on her love life. Thanks, Allison. I had never
seen you before you got on that chair lift with two women companions
and started blabbing in front of a pudgy stranger, me.
One thing I learned in ten years of living in Germany: Watch what
you say in English, be it personal or filthy, because many of the German
speakers around you will understand every word.
A doctor I know discovered this a few summers ago. After being
stopped in Austria for speeding, he was asked by a policeman if he
spoke German. "Ein bischen" (a little), he said, and the officer and the
doctor had a conversation in German about the fine he was going to
have to pay on the spot. The doctor's wife began talking to herself out
loud and in English. "That son-of-a-bitch, that son-of-a-bitch. He's going
to take that money and buy a dress for his girlfriend or wife. That son-of-
a-bitch!"
The officer handed the doctor a ticket, received some euros in return
and then said, in flawless English, "Next time tell your wife not to get
so excited."
If Allison, who is in her early 20's, had been warned to watch what she
said around strangers in Austria, she ignored the suggestion. She talked
to her companions about college and her ex-boyfriend. Her parents
never really like the guy and were delighted when the couple broke up.
Besides, Allison said, she had decided he was a "wanker." One definition
of "wanker" is someone who plays with himself until a fluid situation is
achieved. If I knew the alleged wanker's name, I would ask him for a
one word description of Allison. Fair is fair.
Maybe I'll see her again in Austria. I've been lucky enough to ski
there for more than 30 years. Amazingly, every year the Austrian ski
industry seems to come up with something new, and that's how I know
Allison's name. Several ski shops now put stickers with a bar code and
the customer's name on rented skis. I'm not using Allison's last name
but will tell you it rhymes with "zing."
I hope she had a good ski trip and wants to return. If I ever meet her,
I'll ask her help in trying to solve a mystery that has baffled me since
my first visit. How is it possible that an average Austrian can arrive at
a lift line five minutes after I do and yet plop his tush on a chair lift
while I'm still stuck way back in the pack? The Austrians are experts
at spotting the smallest of openings and squeezing through them, both
on the slopes and in lines. Yes, they shove a little now and then in line,
but no, they don't wear greased ski jackets that enable them to slip
ahead of others. How do they go from last to first so fast and so damn
often?
I don't mind that they can out-ski me. I grew up in the flat farm
country of Indiana, so it's no contest. But I would like to greatly improve
my form, skills and speed in line. (By the way, we Hoosiers say "in line,"
or at least we did when I was younger.)
This latest trip to Austria also produced an allegation directed at me.
My skiing buddies - my son and grandson - both claimed I was making
strange sounds they had never heard me make before. According to
them, various noises, sighs and exhalations emerge from my body
almost non-stop: in the car, on the lift, while skiing and, most upsetting
of all to me, while simply sitting in a restaurant waiting for food, drink
or the waiter to arrive. Isn't that the most ludicrous thing you've ever
heard about someone who is 70 +? At least they didn't call me a wanker.
(Posted January 13, 2010)