There was a stirring conflict within 49-year-old Leonard Fiedorowicz of Dubuque, Iowa as he sat down at the bar inside of Alberto’s Cantina in Playa Del Carmen, Mexico.
The top of his mouth was so damn dry it felt like he had just eaten a box of cotton balls. He needed a drink badly. As if this wasn’t stressful enough, Leonard’s wife and son requested him to order each of them a Beer to bring back to the table.
God dammit. I was already worried about ordering one drink in Mexican. I figured saying “beer” a few times would be fine. Now these fucks want me to string together multiple words and order three beers? Fuck me.
“For you señor?” asked Esteban the bartender.
Alright Leonard, take a deep breath and think back to 4th grade Spanish. Uno.. Dos.. Tres. Yes! Brain blast! Tres means three! He’ll definitely be impressed with my Mexican now!
“Tres beers please.” blurted out Fiedorowicz proudly as if his son had just won the Daytona 500.
“Si.” replied Esteban as he wondered to himself for the hundreth time that day how a white guy with this low of an IQ somehow made enough money in the U.S. to afford a week long international vacation.