Americana

A few years ago I skimmed a book by Robert MacNeil, titled, “Do You Speak American?”. It explores all those cute little Americanisms and dialects and linguistic quirks we all have, regionally. You know, the great soda vs. pop vs. coke debate. Or “Ya’ll” vs. “You guys.”

We say some funny things. I am reminded of this on a semi-regular basis, anytime a foreign student comes through the door of my deli.

Alex is Russian. He comes in at least twice a week, and orders the student special. “I would like the Starving Studen Combo because I am starving and I am a student,” he says in a thick accent, then allows himself a congratulatory chuckle for being so darn clever.
Sometimes, Alex will order another sandwich after that. He’s a beanpole, and pats his non-existent belly and states that he’s still hungry. One day I told him that he’s a bottmless pit.  I then had to explain what a bottomless pit is. My definition wasn’t satisfactory, but he’d been handed his second sandwich by then, and he wandered back to his table shaking his head at this silly American girl.

There’s also an Indian med student who comes in frequently for dessert and coffee. We were out of his usual chocolate cake one evening, and I recommended the carrot cake instead. He made a face. “Does it taste like carrots?” he asks.

“No…not…really…” I say.
I proceed to list off the ingredients. He decides it won’t kill him, and buys a slice. It made me think maybe when people like him and Alex will go home, they might tell their families of what they did in Las Cruces, New Mexico. Despite feeling slightly sorry for my poor explanations, I like that I’ll be a slice of their American experience, and maybe “bottomless pit” and carrot cake will catch on somewhere on the other side of the world.