Teenage FBI
So last night I'm strolling through Hypernova with a few crowns to burn, picking up groceries here and there, and all of a sudden I spot a bottle of Jim Beam. On sale! Score!
I grab it and head to the register.
"blah blah blah too many consonants" says the cashier lady. Me: deer-in-the-headlights.
"Uh...um...ješt' jedno, prosim," I finally manage. (once more, please)
"blah blah blah osmnact let blah," she says. Osmnact...ehh...eighteen. Why is she...holy shit. She actually wants to know if I'm over eighteen so I can buy this whiskey. The fuck? They never ask you that here.
"Uhh...ano, dvacet dva!" (yes, twenty-two). I realize now that it might have been more convincing if I'd remembered the complete expression for "I am 22." Shut up, it's harder than you'd think: Je mi dvacet dva let, which is literally There are for me twenty two of years. Crazy language.
"blah blah blah obcansky prukaze blah blah." (citizen's pass...I didn't write it down right, but I can recognize it when I hear it.) Whoa. The woman wants to see ID. What am I, fourteen? This isn't America, dude -- learn the rules!
Luckily, I had a copy of my passport in my coat, and was able to point out where it said "1982", i.e. been legal for four fucking years, ma'am. So off I went with my whiskey, marveling.
I was mildly astounded by this incident for several reasons. First of all, I got carded. In the Czech Republic. This is completely unheard-of. Second, the lady thought I could conceivably be under 18. Which is...nice...I guess. Oh come on, no it's not. I'm not jailbait, dammit.
Well, ok. I was wearing ratty jeans, a t-shirt that could be kindly described as "vintage" and truthfully described as "old", and a parka that has seen better days. And a backpack. Granted, everyone wears backpacks here because they use public trans, but yeah...my general appearance did sort of scream "I'm 16, and I'm gonna drink this here Jim Beam out back behind the dumpsters! With boys who objectify me! While smoking CIGARETTES!"
Hey, fuck it. I'll dress like a gutter punk if I want to. I got my whiskey, and that's what counts.
I grab it and head to the register.
"blah blah blah too many consonants" says the cashier lady. Me: deer-in-the-headlights.
"Uh...um...ješt' jedno, prosim," I finally manage. (once more, please)
"blah blah blah osmnact let blah," she says. Osmnact...ehh...eighteen. Why is she...holy shit. She actually wants to know if I'm over eighteen so I can buy this whiskey. The fuck? They never ask you that here.
"Uhh...ano, dvacet dva!" (yes, twenty-two). I realize now that it might have been more convincing if I'd remembered the complete expression for "I am 22." Shut up, it's harder than you'd think: Je mi dvacet dva let, which is literally There are for me twenty two of years. Crazy language.
"blah blah blah obcansky prukaze blah blah." (citizen's pass...I didn't write it down right, but I can recognize it when I hear it.) Whoa. The woman wants to see ID. What am I, fourteen? This isn't America, dude -- learn the rules!
Luckily, I had a copy of my passport in my coat, and was able to point out where it said "1982", i.e. been legal for four fucking years, ma'am. So off I went with my whiskey, marveling.
I was mildly astounded by this incident for several reasons. First of all, I got carded. In the Czech Republic. This is completely unheard-of. Second, the lady thought I could conceivably be under 18. Which is...nice...I guess. Oh come on, no it's not. I'm not jailbait, dammit.
Well, ok. I was wearing ratty jeans, a t-shirt that could be kindly described as "vintage" and truthfully described as "old", and a parka that has seen better days. And a backpack. Granted, everyone wears backpacks here because they use public trans, but yeah...my general appearance did sort of scream "I'm 16, and I'm gonna drink this here Jim Beam out back behind the dumpsters! With boys who objectify me! While smoking CIGARETTES!"
Hey, fuck it. I'll dress like a gutter punk if I want to. I got my whiskey, and that's what counts.
posted by ridley at 3/30/2005 12:13:00 AM
1 Comments:
Hey rebecca, had a lot of fun reading this...dont worry it´ll NEVER happen to you again in our country.Just bad luck:)And to the language point:To me it sounds much funnier and weirder to say I am 22(ja jsem 22 - I am a number 22)then say It´s 22 to me which is the right translation of what we say here.Take care Martin
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