I’ll Take a Zup

After having resisted the desire to show off my English, I gave in to the temptation when the flight attendant wheeled the drinks cart by.

“What would you like to drink?” she asked.

I looked at the cart briefly, clueless, but I thought I saw one I could pronounce. “I would like a Zup, please.”

She tilted her head, and asked with a frown, “Excuse me?”

“I would like a … Zup,” I repeated louder this time, emphasizing my pronunciation.

She shook her head, puzzled, “I’m sorry.”

I pointed to the cluster of green cans.

“Oh, yes! You would like a 7Up,” she said, hiding a smile.

I felt myself turn purple from the humiliation. She handed me a can. “Thank you,” I managed.

“You are welcome.”

I knew there would be many more such embarrassing moments on an arduous road paved with enigmatic English spellings and intriguing pronunciations, peculiar expressions and linguistic oddities.

I leaned back and remembered the trips to the Black Sea, sitting behind Tati and wishing he drove faster. If only the pilot flew faster!

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