Clicks and Whistles

Yesterday Nicolo asked me to take him to the Golf Smith to purchase a golf club for his father. When he finally found the club he picked it up shook it a bit and made a disapproving clicking sound with is tongue. He took it up to the counter where in his screwy English began to barter with the teenaged employee behind the counter. I of course let this go on because it was a great way to end my day. Scared pimply kid being assaulted with questions in gibberish by a pushy Italian. When the kid was almost brought to tears because he didn’t understand, I quit pretending that I was interested in the Chicken Head club covers and went over to the counter and explained to Nicolo that this was not a market place in Morocco and he could not barter for items. He then clicked his tongue at me and continued to question the boy behind the counter who now had an entourage of teenage boys. Nicolo was out numbered and forced to pay the asking price. I told him I would give him a ride back home if he could give me a pig and a bag of pecans…he didn’t understand.
Next stop the grocery store. This was our third trip in 10 days. But I keep taking him the different chains so I can confuse him. Surprisingly I had some shopping to do as well so I turned him loose in the grocery store. Probably not my best judgment…but when have I ever had good judgment. SO I meandered around the store picked up my trash bags, peanut butter, jelly, and bread. I loitered a bit by the magazine rack hoping I could use the trick that Amy has taught me. (The trick is where you throw a Low Rider magazine in an unsuspecting consumer’s cart so when it comes time to check out they are judged not only by the cashier but everyone in line when they flail their arms and claim that they did not choose such smut to read.) I figured this was enough time for Nicolo to choose his goods so I went to the check out line. After waiting in the 12 item express lane behind a guy who had 16 items, I checked out and asked the woman to call Nicolo over the intercom because I didn’t know where he was. As soon as she does this I see Nicolo in the deli making a lot of hand motions directed toward two women in aprons behind the glass case of meat. I walk up on Nicolo cussing in Italian because the girls do not understand that he wants a lot of Roast Beef. He only knows the metric system so he was trying to explain it in Kilograms. I tell the girls to give him a pound of roast beef, and then I have to explain what a pound is to Nicolo. I told him it was one-one hundredth and something of me. Still didn’t understand. During his check out, he began to unload the items and then actually tried to step behind the counter to help. I started looking at his items, yogurt, crème cheese (two tubs of), the roast beef, and a low rider magazine.