It's good to be bilingual

I found myself speaking Uzbek in Los Angeles on Saturday.

Um..... I didn't know I could speak Uzbek. I must have learned it from my father.

There are those people, when talking to foreigners, who think they will be understood by speaking louder in English.

My father was different. My father would speak to them in English but use their accent.

That's not all. He would use their accent but speak to them in his version of Spanish. I think he figured what the hell, we're in California; if they don't speak English they must know Spanish.

That's the main reason I'm afraid to go back to China Town in San Francisco. I'm afraid they'll recognize me and take me back to that place were they kill the chickens.

Try to picture an overweight balding Italian man that looked like Al from Happy Days, speaking broken Spanish, with a Chinese accent, trying to get directions from a Mandarin butcher.

So I'm speaking with our Uzbek limo driver......

"Donde es de museum of Senor King Tut....?"

It sure is good to know a second language.