Espanol

I work for my mom (designer for the stars) sometimes. Today I went to a doctor's house to help load old furniture into a Salvation Army truck. (Which is the charity we're not supposed to like because they love George Bush and hate gays? Salvation Army?  Or is it Goodwill? I forgot. Instead of simply looking it up, I won't support any of them and throw my perfectly good things in the trash. Nay! Better yet! I'll buy new clothes, and immediately ask the employee that just rang me up to throw them in their little waste basket.  "Make sure I SEE you pour that Mountain Dew on those capris..." Take that, Bush administration!)

Where was I?

Oh. The worker men were Latino.

I asked either of them if they spoke Spanish.

White people, when you ask things like that, do you ever feel like the ethnic person kind of braces themselves?  I've noticed this.  I see in their eyes that they all too well know I'm going to say somethig really ignorant or offensive.  Which is probably because that  is usually the case.  I could feel them being used to it; that I was a dumb gringo ready to say something just so painfully rude.  Little did they know who they were talking to... Mackenzie... The famous blogger who specializes in World Peace and equality.  Little did they know what cultural barrieres I was about to break...

"Do either of you speak Spanish?"

"....yes."

"How do you say watermelon?"

"............Sandia..."

"Thanks!"

Pause.

"... Why?"

"Well, right before I woke up in my dream, I said to someone, I don't know who, 'Como se dice watermelon?' And I just had to find out!"

"Okay. Can we go now?"

Breaking. Down. Barriers.