Voice of Reason: Enunciation can be key
“What we have here… is failure to communicate.” I used to associate this quote with the movie “Cool Hand Luke.” But after a recent episode in which I thoroughly embarrassed myself, every time I hear that line from now on I will always think of the Windy City.
I was accompanying a group of local educators to a conference in Chicago last month when the unfortunate episode occurred. One day, after a busy round of morning sessions, many of us, in small groups, took to the streets of the city to grab lunch and do a bit of sightseeing.
After trying Thai food for the first time at a good restaurant on E. Ohio St., the small group I was with went our separate ways – some went shopping, some went back to the hotel and I just went wandering around. Meandering south down Michigan Avenue, I soon came upon another group of local educators making their way north.
We stopped and chatted, asking each other what we had been doing, what interesting things we had seen, and so on. And then came that most innocent of all questions, the answer of which, as it turned out, ended up showing just how far this reporter has to go in honing his communication skills.
The question in question, as I said a moment ago, was innocent enough: “What are you doing for dinner tonight?,” I was asked. I promptly answered that while exploring I had noticed a tapas (pronounced top-uhs) bar and, being the adventurous sort, would most likely go there to eat. Y’all are invited to come along, I added.
Their responses perplexed me. “Wow, Will, you certainly are honest,” said one of the women. “I’ll go! I’ll go!” jokingly mouthed this woman’s husband, behind her back. “You’re really going to go there?,” another woman asked.
Like I said, I didn’t understand what they meant. What’s wrong with a tapas bar, I asked myself. The tone their responses took implied I should be ashamed of my dinner choice or at the very least have been more discreet about it. Tapas are just small plates of Spanish appetizers. Granted, I had never eaten tapas before, but to my knowledge there was nothing inappropriate about them.
I didn’t say anything or ask them about what they meant, though. My first thought was that they just didn’t know what a tapas bar was and perhaps had it mistaken with something else. Not wanting to embarrass them by pointing out their ignorance I just nodded my head, let out an unsure laugh, and said yes I was going to the tapas bar and again invited whomever might be interested to join me.
As we finished this brief, and by now awkward (for me, anyway), conversation and turned go our separate ways, the lone gentlemen of the group who had just a few moments before expressed mock excitement at going to the tapas bar said, “Let me know if they’re giving lap dances.”
Again, I laughed nervously and started walking, not knowing what he meant. After about 10 steps, however, it hit me. “Wait just a minute,” I thought to myself, “they think I said I was going to a TOPLESS bar!”
I ran back to catch them and inform them know I am not one to frequent topless bars. While I was quite embarrassed for a minute or two, they all found it hilariously funny. In a matter of hours the story made its way to every other member of the Warren County group, who also found it hilarious.
Needless to say it was the running joke for the rest of the trip. On the way to the airport they presented me with a package of “Gummy Boobs” to commemorate the event. Something tells me this story will not go away any time soon.
(Will Stewart is a writer for the Standard. He can be reached at 473-2191 or by e-mail at [email protected].)