The Language Barrier

This is just a short story that I had to write in Language Arts this year; I had a lot of fun writing it so I decided I might as well upload it!  Without further ado....

The Language Barrier

It’s about 10 o’clock at night, and here I am driving aimlessly around some small town in the middle of nowhere.  I’ve been on the road for two days now, and I’m on my way to a big conference in Nevada for my company.  Right now, I’m in Utah (I think) and should arrive sometime tomorrow afternoon.  I should’ve checked into my hotel hours ago, but I haven’t had dinner and there was no source of food anywhere in my room.  That’s why I dropped my bags and set out in search of a restaurant.  Now it’s two hours later, and I’ve had no luck.  This town has that old-fashioned feel, and the only eateries that I’ve seen so far are the family-owned joints that close at eight and only run Monday through Friday.  I haven’t eaten since two this afternoon, and my stomach feels like its about to collapse in on itself.

I navigate around two traffic circles and turn back around onto main street, waiting for a fast food restaurant to fall out of the sky.  Be realistic, Roger, I think to myself, if anything, it’ll be a sit-down restaurant that falls out of the sky.  Like Olive Garden.  Man, I could really go for some Italian right now.  

You know what, it doesn’t even have to be Italian.  I would stop at a gas station if I had to, but the three that I’ve passed have been tiny-- like, 20 by 20 feet tiny-- and have only sold cigarettes and beef jerky.  Beef jerky, though quite durable, is not very filling.  Looking at the clock, I see that it is 10:30, and I decide to retreat back to the hotel.  I turn my car around, sigh in defeat, and resign myself to the long drive ahead of me.  With all my wandering, I’m about four towns over from my starting point.  Maybe there’ll be a vending machine at the hotel or something, so I won’t starve...

But no!  On the horizon, a glowing golden arch!  Such a glorious sight I have never seen in my lifetime!  Instantly, my exhaustion is wiped away and elation fills my heart.  Stomach clenched in anticipation, I step on the gas and speed towards McDonald’s.  I can already taste the Big Mac and side of fries-- smothered in ketchup-- and the oreo chocolate shake to wash it all down.

I’m so lost in my daydream that I almost drive past.  Fortunately, the aromatic smell of ground beef and day-old cheese breaks me out of my reverie just in time for a sharp right-hand turn in the parking lot.  I wince at the loud shriek and look back to see dark skid-marks scarring the parking lot.  Seeing that they form nearly a 90 degree angle, I grimace and think about my last trip to the mechanic.

Ah, well, I think, At least I’ll be driving to the mechanic with a full stomach.  With a small grin on my face, I pull up to the ordering mechanism and roll down my window.  A heavily-accented employee says, “Welcome to mac donald, how can I service you?”

I find his broken english a little strange, but I shrug it off and say, “Hi, can I get a Big Mac and an.... um, oreo shake?  Oh yeah, and a side of fries.  With ketchup. Lots and lots of ketchup. You got all that?”  I wait a second for his reply.

“Bigmac?” he asks, sounding a bit confused.

“Right, umm... can I get that with pickles, uh, lettuce, onions, ketchup... wait, can you make that a cheeseburger?” I ask.

“She-ease burger?” he replies, then starts talking in rapid Spanish while I sit dumbfounded.  “No hablo Inglés. ¿Quieres una hamburguesa? Big Mac? ¿Sabes españoles? Ugh, odio mi trabajo-- estúpida barrera del idioma-- y mi jefe me dijo que todo lo que necesito saber es 'Big Mac' y 'Welcome to McDonalds’. ¿Quieres Big Mac, señor, ¿no es así?” (Translation: I do not speak English. Want a burger? Big Mac? Do you know Spanish? Ugh, I hate my job-- stupid-language barrier-- and my boss told me all I need to know is 'Big Mac' and 'Welcome to McDonalds'. You want a Big Mac, sir, right?)