I’m traveling again soon. The hours and days in airports and on trains and showing documents and hassling with idiot taxi drivers, oh joy!
The destination is the pleasure for me. Germany again, and I’ve hauled out my old high school textbooks to polish up my grammar. Oh joy!
I remember one lesson, way, way back. First class after lunch, never a good time for paying the strictest attention, and there was a disturbance in the corridor outside. Someone yelling and bumping into things.
We all looked at each other, and the teacher muttered at the distraction.
Suddenly the door burst open and a man staggered in. An old guy, somebody’s grandfather maybe. He was rotten drunk, and he looked over we teens.
“If it wasn’t for me,” he declared, banging his fist on a desk, “youse’d all be speaking German today!”
“That’s exactly right,” said our teacher. “Thank you for your service.”