One of the perils of living on the edge of Tourist World is occaisionally being confused for one of the tourists. I've become accustomed to being asked which theme park I'm going to today, how long I'm staying, where I'm from. No big deal, and we all usually get a decent chuckle out of it.
Today's such query was decidedly unique. During a transaction at Gap Oulet (T-shirt and cargo shorts for under $20? I'm so there.), I was asked the "where-are-you-from" question. When I responded, "oh, I live here," the cashier's response was, "Oh, I thought I heard a hint of an English accent."
Well, OK, on most days I do speak English pretty well (it is my first — and pretty much only — spoken language) but accent? My form of speech is about as plain-vanilla, white-bread, West Coast American as one gets, save the occasional lapse into the locally-influenced "ya'll" that entertains my Southern-born mother to no end.
No comments:
Post a Comment