That is indeed very insightful. We didn’t have much of a summer this year, but I guess last year makes up for that.
I’m originally from Germany and I had an American aquaintance (who’s parents drove a Mercedes) ask me: “Do they have cars in Germany?”
Another asked me if we still have Nazis in Germany, so I pulled his leg and told him we still celebrate Hitler’s birthday every April 20th, and display our swastikas on that day. He believed me! :eek:
A friend of mine is from Vienna (not the one in Northern Virginia), and after someone had asked where he was from and he had answered Austria, they responded “How exotic”
When I worked in my university’s computer labs swapping out machines one summer, we’d close a lab for a week at a time, remove all the computers, and perform general maintenance. Invariably some grad student would come in, after having pushed the sign informing them the lab was closed out of the doorway, and we’d tell them the lab was closed. The response?
I was going to a fancy place called the Jonathan Club for a wedding. I knew the address, and the approximate location, but when I got to where I figured it was, there was a driveway into a courtyard, but no signage and no address posted. So, I shrugged and pulled into the driveway, where I was met by a valet. I rolled down the window and asked “Is this the Jonathan Club?” As the words were leaving my lips, my brain registered the fact that the man’s hat, shirt and vest were festooned with the words ‘Jonathan Club’ and ‘JC’ monograms. He was also standing next to a sign that said ‘Jonathan Club’ and the rates charged for parking there. :o To his eternal credit, he simply said “Yes, sir” and did his job without cracking even a smile.
And to this day, when I hear a ‘stupid’ question, I think, ‘is this the Jonathan Club?’
Many moons ago in a Sunday magazine insert of my local hometime rag a humor author took a light-hearted look at both the eccentricities (mostly local slang) of us Upstaters and the snobbery and solipsism of the Big Apple he grew up in.
His father (who BTW seemed to assume that the local media in all other American cities had no other concerns but to intently watch the streets of NYC) once was chatting with him. The subject of how big Rochestarian phone books were becoming came was raised by the son. (As I recall this preceded the decision to separate white and yellow pages into two volumes.)
Padre: (???) You have PHONE BOOKS up there?!
Son: (heavy sigh) Yes, Dad, even phones!
I asked a stupid question once in elementary school. The teacher had a friend visiting from France, so he came into class to tell us about his country. I asked him if there were warehouses in France.
I play out this one in restaraunts all the time. I’ll look around for the restroom, give up, and ask the nearest waitress. Inevitably, the nearest waitress is standing comically close the large illuminated RESTROOMS sign
