Social Interaction - Gimme Five!

On my list of many social interaction issues, physical contact is definitely in the top three. It would be right up there with talking to people and any form of interaction with random strangers or people I haven’t seen in a long time.

I’m not a hugger. I’ve said that many times. My wife gets away with hugging me, mostly because she lets me have sex with her (it seems like a fair trade). The same goes for kissing. Again, Mrs. C gets a pass (also because of the sex) but anyone else, not so much. I have aunts who always like to greet with a big hug and a kiss on the cheek, which is why I try to avoid them whenever possible.

What’s weird is I always seem to notice when someone makes deliberate, physical contact with me. Someone putting his/her hand on my shoulder, for example, immediately sets off all kinds of alarms in my head and I spend the rest of the interaction trying not to tense-up and acting like I don’t even notice. You know? Like any normal person is supposed to do.

However, much to my dismay, people are always trying to touch me. I think my overall unease with physical contact is belied by my seemingly approachable demeanor. (DAMN MY FRIENDLY FACE!!!) Just a few days ago, I was showing some students in one of my classes the video quality on my phone when the woman to my right put her arm around my back, while the one on the other side pressed her boobs into my shoulder so she could get in closer to see the screen. During all this, I was doing my best not to tense up.

It wasn’t pretty.

This is just one more reason I love Japan so much. In one of my classes I learned that a lot, like, A LOT of cultures employ handshakes and even kisses – to various degrees – as their greeting of choice. Not Japan, though. You stay at a safe distance from the person you’re meeting and bow. There’s no touching and personal boundaries are respected.

It’s perfect!

Hugging and kissing people is bad enough but what I find I have a lot of issues with is the whole act of “giving” someone “five”.

I know. I know.  It’s just a quick slap of someone else’s palm that lasts less than a second and, as such, should be the least invasive form of physical contact. Right? Well, have you ever thought of the mechanics involved with giving five to someone? I have. I overthink the process every time I placed in a position where a “five” must be bestowed.

Every. single. time.

When someone extends his/her palm towards me I immediately begin to second guess my actions My thoughts in the split-second before I act flow something like this:

Dammit! He just reached out his hand. Is he looking for a handshake? What were we just talking about? I made a joke and he thought it was funny and apparently well suited to the situation. A handshake is probably too formal for this scenario.

So it’s a five then?

Simple enough. Just a quick slap of his palm and that should seal the deal. A quick slap contact shouldn't be more than a second or else things could get weird.

How hard should slap his hand?

Hmm... I remember reading that guys often use these forms of social interaction amongst each other as an opportunity to display his physical strength. One good, hard slap should do.

But what if I hit his hand too hard? What if I focus too much on power and lose accuracy in the process? It would probably be awkward if I miss his hand altogether and swat at thin air.

Should I look at his hand when I give him the five? That will help with my aim. Do people look at each other’s hands when doing this?!

Okay, I won’t look at his hand. I’ll give a moderate slap so I can make sure my aim is good.

It can’t be too soft, though. That would be weird. Plus, he might form doubts about my masculinity.

I need to angle my wrist properly too. Otherwise, I’ll just end up hitting his hand wrong and not making the proper “slapping” sensation. I’m sure I’ll lose points if I connect with the heel of my palm or, even worse, karate-chop his hand.

Okay, this is taking long. I'll just do it and get it over with…

DAMMIT, I missed!

See? It’s not as easy as you may think. This is why I prefer a fistbump (of a “bounce”, as we call them here). Those are easy. You see someone extend a fist, all you have to do is touch that fist with your fist. The. end. About the only time things go off track is when the other person decides to add that sudden wide-spread palm while making an explosion sound-effect right after the bump.

I don’t like those people.

Fortunately, most tend to stay away from that maneuver.

Aside from that, all you have to worry about with a bounce is getting the aim right which, I must admit, I don’t always nail with 100% accuracy.

I don’t want to talk about it.

A Different World Than Where You Come From.

Earlier this week my boss, the Big Man put two of a three-man work crew on a two-day suspension. They're all fairly new to the company and have had problems getting along and focusing on their job. This led to a lot of infighting and dirty laundry being aired. It didn't help that there was also a teeny problem with the misuse of company equipment.

It wasn't pretty.

As a result, the third guy, who I'll call Footinmouth, was left with nothing to do but sit in the office for those two days and await further instructions. None came. Needless to say, Footinmouth got bored. REALLY BORED. Why I call him Footinmouth is because he often speaks his mind, but unfortunately, it often appears that his mouth is running on empty when he does.

Source

Added to this, the guy has zero impulse control. Recently, he was waiting at the office for his other crew members to get in so they could head off and do thing. Since I’m normally at work by myself most of the time it was just the two of us. While he was waiting, a female staff member (one he’d never met before) came in to the office to drop off her crew’s timecards. This staff member in particular is a young, attractive Jamaican girl who... let’s just say is very amply proportioned. When not in uniform, her dress code is normally too tight and too short. This was her off day, so she wasn’t in uniform...

Have you ever seen a train wreck situation about to happen, but knew you couldn’t stop it, so all you could do was watch the horror take place. Not only did she have to drop cards off, but she said she needed to collect more timecards for her crew. I didn’t have enough for everyone at her worksite, so I had to print a few more up. That meant she had to sit and wait... in her jeans that were about two sizes too small and a vest that barely covered anything... next to Footinmouth.

Yeah...

Dispite my telling him (repeatedly) to behave, he didn't waste any time in making his move. He started off by telling her (repeatedly) how “damn fine” he thought she was, which she ignored as politely as she could. And, for some reason, which I’ll never understand, he thought he could get away with asking what model smart phone she had so he’d have an excuse to "casually" reach for it to get a closer look. Conveniently, it was resting on her lap, in the vicinity of her crotch. She wasn’t naïve, though and spotted his play. That’s when she let her phone “accidentally” slide off her lap and onto the floor. By the time she picked it up I'd finished printing more cards, which she collected and she left.

I told my supervisor to be ready for when she lodges her sexual harassment claim.

Anyway, as I was saying earlier, Footinmouth was stuck with me for those two days with nothing to do. The Big Man didn’t really have anything for him so he spent most of his time sleeping in the training room. I didn’t really care as long as he kept out of my way. I even felt sorry for him and let him use my computer while I was on lunch (and hoped, he stayed off porn sites). Unfortunately, nothing lasts forever and on the second day he decided he’d pass the time talking to me.

I blame it on my act of kindness. It won't happen again.

For fun, I’ll leave the conversation in Trini dialect. Don’t worry, I’ll translate (in red) where necessary.

FIM: So how long yuh (you) married?

Me: Almost ten years.

FIM: WAAAAYYY !!! (WOW!!!) Yuh ever horn she? (Have you ever cheated on her?)

This always seems to be one of the first questions I get asked when I talk with some people about my being married.

Me: Nope. Not in the seventeen years we’ve been together.

FIM: NAH!!! (NO WAY!!!) Not even once?

Me: Not even once.

FIM: But I sure real gyals does be tracking yuh! (I’m sure a lot of girls flirt with/express their interest in you.)

Why thank you. I'm flattered. That’s very kind of you to say.

Me: Not that I know of. At least, not in a long time (It's hard to get flirted with when you never go anywhere or do anything).

FIM: What about all them gyals who does be tracking yuh on Facebook?

Me: Nice try, but you’ve never seen me on Facebook (I’m nothing if not discreet with my web habits at work when people are around).

FIM: Yeah? When I was on de computer, I saw ah Facebook message from a gyal.

Me: Well, 1 - That’s email spam and, 2 - that’s the company email, not mine. It’s the Big Man’s Facebook account that’s linked to it.

FIM: Alright, "Mr. Innocent". Allyuh so (Your kind) could never do anything wrong.

I think I detected a hint of sarcasm there.

Me: I never said I never did anything wrong, just never cheated on my wife.

I don't think he ever really believed me. I should mention that Footinmouth has a child and a girlfriend (who he complained to me about during our conversation). Of course, his earlier exchange with that female coworker should not come as a shock, given our conversation. His opinion of women are similar to a commenter a blogging buddy of mine, Jules of According to Jules, had to deal with recently.

There’s an old Trinidad & Tobago Carnival classic from 1982 called “Deputy Essential” that declares that having an “other woman” on the side is a must for every male. A lot of men ascribe to that belief and Footinmouth is one of them.  He can’t fathom the idea of being with only one person.

Source

I, on the other hand, don’t share that sentiment. While I didn't grow up in some upper class, well-to-do family, my parents raised me and my two younger sisters to a certain standard (which mostly took). I’m not a prude and I don’t look down on them, even if I don’t agree with their point of view when it comes to relationships.

However, that doesn’t work the other way around. Guys like Footinmouth think other guys are lying when they say they stick to that one woman and never play the field. Even Footinmouth’s supervisor, a guy about 10 years older than I am, told me he could never see himself getting married, even though he’s been in a long-term, common-law relationship for years. He said he feels like he needs to have an escape route if things went south with the mother of his children.

I... don’t get it.

All-in-all, though, I guess it’s just a matter of guys like them and guys like me being from two different worlds.

Crazy People Seem Drawn to Me.

Last night I was out on the corner waiting for my wife to get home. Since they don't clash with the days I have school, I normally wait for her like this on the two nights of her own classes, so I can walk her in and help her with her heavy bag full of law books. I’ve even stopped complaining about having to do it for several weeks now. I know… I know… I’m an awesome husband. No need to make a big deal about it.

Anyway, like I said, I was waiting on the corner, playing some bejeweled on my phone when, from the corner of my eye, I noticed some guy walking past. I wasn’t too concerned, but with the amount of cell phone snatch-and-run thefts we’ve been having these days, it never hurts to be careful. I took quick glance and, by all appearances, he just seemed a normal-looking guy on his way home from work. With that, I went back to what I was doing. I decided he wasn’t anyone I needed to concern myself with.

Or so I thought…

When he was close enough to me he suddenly stopped, “Big man (a common way one guy addresses another here), that Blueberry (what he actually called it) could tell me where I living?”

Now when faced with a situation like this I have a tendency to act as if the crazy is totally normal, so as not to agitate the crazy person. I politely nodded and said, “Nope.”

“No? What the fuuu-?!” He never finished the word. He just continued on his way, muttering something that was indiscernible to me.

I watched as he crossed the street and slapped a street sign as he went his way. I put my phone away after that. I didn’t feel like playing anymore.

Was he drunk? I can't say I noticed the scent of any alcohol. This leads me to believe he was just plain nuts, which makes sense since it’s like I’m a magnet for crazy.

I hope he found his way home, though.

Me Vs. Nature Part IV - Revenge Of The Grackle.

Just like with the job I had about a year and a half ago, I now work close enough to where I go to school that I can walk from one point to the other in less than 20 minutes, even if I take my time and walk slowly. I consider it my cardio for the week, plus it saves me on taxi fare, so why not? Right?

Still, it is the dry season again and the sun has been out with a vengeance the last few weeks, so I recently started taking the scenic route, which in this case, ironically, is the shorter of the two main routes to get to class. This route takes me down a street that runs alongside an area known as George the 5th Park, which allows pedestrians to walk under a series of the trees, lining the sidewalk. On the southern side of that street, however, there are some houses and businesses and The Oval, a really large sporting ground used mostly for cricket matches. That takes up about half of that side.

Now you know.

The Oval's walled off like a maximum security prison, sans the guard towers and razor wire and so it's kind of boring and you get more of the blistering sun on that side of the street, so I prefer to stick to the other side with the cool shady trees, some of which start to show their colors off at this time of year, like this Pink Poui tree:

My apologies to all of you who are currently not enjoying the snow wherever you are that are forced to watch this.

Pretty, right?

There is a down side to all this, though. Where there are a lot of trees, there will probably be a lot of Grackles. I've mentioned these guys before. They're tiny black birds that get very territorial around this time of year and attack anyone who comes too close to their nesting spots. They seem to favor attacking me.

Nothing personal, bub... I still kill you.
source

How they normally do their thing is to swoop down at the heads of passers-by from behind, squawk and then fly back to the safety of a nearby tree. They'll continue doing this until they're satisfied the intruder is well enough away from their territory. You might think they're brave, but I've observed them running from pigeons, which is kind of insulting, if you ask me. Since I don't particularly like being made to duck like a crazy person in the streets every time I suddenly hear that high-pitched "Squawk!" behind my head, I prefer to avoid them.

Then I found the solution to all my problems.

With the birds anyway...

It was purely by accident. The other day, I was on my way to class as usual. I wasn't even thinking about my feathered nemesis at the time and had my music cranked up through my headphones as I made my way. I was also distracted by the text conversation I was having with my wife at the time. It was then I looked up from my phone and noticed my shadow in front of me and an even tinier shadow of a Grackle that was repeatedly swooping down from the trees. I was almost to the end of the Park so I could only assume it had been trying to get my attention for some time, but I hadn't even noticed it until then and not once was I forced to duck or dodge his assault.

AT LAST!!! I found my answer. Music! Music loud enough that it prevented me from hearing the fluttering wings and the annoying "Squawk!" that would force me to look like an idiot in the streets. That was my answer. From here on in I knew what I had to do. So the next day, I was ready. I decided the shorter, scenic route was mine and no tiny bird was going to deter me ever again. I would have the shade of the trees. I would have the shorter walk. I would not be denied! I walked down the street and, as I came up to the trees, I saw a Grackle take up position.

"Hey, Mr. Grackle'" I thought smugly, "You here to try your luck? Betcha won't spook me. Betcha I don't even notice ya."

I may have been enjoying this a little too much.

I continued my walk and turned my MP3 player on my phone up. I wasn't even going to look out for him. In my mind, I had already won against the dreaded bird, so why bother paying attention to his fruitless efforts. The Grackle was now beneath my noticing.

Or not.

Here we have a saying: Who doh hear, does feel.

Apparently, Grackles also practice this policy since, I hadn't made it more than a few steps before I felt its talons on the back of my head.

And I ducked.

Son of a....

The Grackle will not be ignored, it seems. I guess he figured he would try harder this time around to get my attention. It looks like the bird is more persistent than I thought. I looked up and he perched himself up in a nearby tree waiting to strike again, watching me with his beady little eyes and daring me to continue. I decided to admit defeat and crossed over to the other side of the street, away from the trees. I don't get enough sun anyway.

This round went to the bird.

A Day At The Beach.

I wrote two whole posts today! The first is at Sprocket Ink. You know the drill. SI Badge on the right: Click it to go straight to that post. Next is a post I wrote about a story assignment The Paper sent me on yesterday. To. the. beach! They make it hard to hate them sometimes.

********

The road to Maracas Bay isn't for the faint of stomach. It's a series of seemingly endless hairpin turns that wind along the mountainous north coast. On one side, the heavily forested Northern Range towers above while on the other, it continues its steep drop to the ocean.

This was my mission yesterday. A trip to Maracas to scope out the scene at what has become a tradition here in T&T. Every Ash Wednesday, the masses flock here the cool down after the two days of Carnival craziness. Sometimes I love this job.

But this wasn't the usual Ash Wednesday post-Carnival beach escape. Noticeably absent were the infamous long lines of vehicles snaking in and out of the beach. My new photographer (lost the other one on the Carnival Tuesday assignment and haven't seen him since) and I got there in no time at all.

As always, I was captivated by the pristine beauty of one of the island's most popular beaches.

How the Northern Range embraces it on both sides.

The powerful waves crashing that just seem to beg you to dive in.

Paradise!

There were a few reasons for the lack of crowds that morning. The weather was overcast that morning so many would have wanted to see if the day was suited for the beach. Others were wary because someone spread a rumor of a police shootout in the area. The weather cleared up very early with no signs of rain from there on in and police patrolling the said the shootout rumor was false, so everyone was expecting a huge influx to appear just after lunchtime.

That gave me and my photographer time to relax talk to who was already out there and, of course, take some pictures.

We came across a group who had built a sand pyramid.

They made other... things too.

What do you think? Too much to drink, or too little?

Needless to say, there are big booties, there are guys trying to get behind it.

Admiring his handiwork

I wasn't going to edit any more faces but I know this guy.

He really got into it.

Still, you just can't get over that view.

The lovely, lovely view.

Yeah, just so you know, the next few are girls in bikinis pics.

Okay! Okay! Ladies, something for you too.

Sorry, America, but we're not giving her back.

It was around this time I considered a career change.

You mean they get paid to look at this all day, EVERY DAY?!

Soon it was time for lunch.


Any Trini will tell you that when you visit Maracas beach, you have the Bake and Shark, so, of course, that's what we were after. "Richard's" is the man to go to. Sure, he has the longest lines, but that because he has the best bake and shark on the beach. Being in the media, he let us skip the line. I love this job.


Actually there are two lines. There's one to get your sandwich which moves pretty fast. After you get it, however, there's a second line to choose from his wide assortment of condiments.

Forget how some of them look. They're ALL awesome!

I was going to snap a picture to show you what it looks like... but I ate it.

Urp!

So I bought another one! YAY!

Believe me. A lot of sharks died a worthy death to make this happen.

That's around the time Mrs. C texted to see how things were going.

Trini Talk: Stueps (alternate: Steups) - A sound made by sucking one's teeth to express anger, disappointment,  frustration or (in this case) jealousy.

I typed up my article on the car ride back, handed it in and headed home. I finished my day tired and tanned but with a distinct sense of accomplishment after my grueling 5½ hour assignment.

Just Where Have you Been This Week? - I Was Hiding In The Fridge.

Wow, weekend just seem to come up so fast!

Let's begin:

- My first post this week was on Tuesday. It was my take on the Studio 30 Plus weekly prompt "Your Earliest Memory Of Your Own Birthday Party". It was a really weird one.

Of course, you too can join in on the S30P action... As long as you're a member, that is. And I'd expect that, if you are a blogger aged thirty and over, that you're already a member of this great group. Just makes sense.

Also on Tuesday, I also posted on Sprocket Ink about young, attractive Russian women willing to bare it all in the name of supporting their favorite political candidate.

- On Thursday I posted on Sprocket Ink again. This time about the gradually vanishing species known as the German Nudist.

Then I noticed that both my Sprocket stories had similar themes. This made me a bit concerned and I expressed those concerns back here.

- On Friday I wrote a letter of complaint to the sun for the unbearable heat I had to endure.

Interesting side note about this post: This afternoon I noticed this -

I honestly can't tell you why.

Anyway, seems like someone was paying attention because this morning I got a response to that letter:

Along with thunder! Then, as I was out doing errands this happened:

 And I was caught in it the entire time.

I'm wondering if I should build an ark or something.

Of course, I'm not fooling myself into believing that my letter was responsible for the change in weather. That would be ridiculous! I'm sure the weather would have changed whether I wrote it or not.

Hmm...

Dear National Lottery Board,

During my adult life I've purchased lottery tickets no less that eight times with no success. I find this unacceptable as, if anyone is deserving I must say that I am... 

Addressing The Weather.

Dear Sun,

As you well know, here in the country of Trinidad & Tobago, we are scheduled to be in the period known as the "Rainy Season" at this present time. This particular season runs from the 1st of June to the 31st of December. It is during this period in which we recover from the onslaught you would have inflicted upon us for the first six months of the year - the "Dry Season" - which is when you get to do your thing.

So, that being the case, I would appreciate some sort of explanation as to why, for almost every day for the past two weeks, I have been greeted by THIS:

Does that look like rain to you Sun? I think not. No, that's you, muscling in on Rain's allotted time. And it's safe to say that you are overdoing it since I have to have an electric fan on and in close proximity, day and night.

I know that this year you dropped the ball during your time and this dry season was, in fact, not all that dry. I understand if you feel cheated by this. That, however, does not warrant your present action of trying to interfere in Rain's business.

This behavior is unacceptable and I think I speak for everyone here in T&T, as well as those in other countries who are presently putting up with your presence, when I say to you, "YOU ARE NOT WANTED HERE!!!" I would kindly ask that you cease and desist from your present activity and let good sense prevail.

Thank you.

Vinny C.

First Fired, Then Promoted, Now...

Redundant?

At least, that’s the gist of what I was told this Monday. According to Bossman there’s no need for the position they were training me for. Please note, no actual training ever took place during the past two months (Except for the training I gave my replacement, of course). Opportunities to use me in the capacity he envisioned just weren’t materializing as quickly as expected. So, essentially, I finish out this month and proceed with my previously scheduled firing from two months ago.

“Unless something happens to pop up,” he said.

What the hell kind of bullshit is that!?! I’ll say this much: Once I leave, there’s no way in hell I’m going back. Thanks for the free coffee, asshole! Sayonara! On a side note, if you haven’t read my article at Sprocket Ink from yesterday, he inspired it. Go see.

Anyway, it seems like I’m going to have me a little free time next week so I’ve started compiling a list of activities to keep myself occupied while I seek new employment.

- Gaming: In an effort to be more focused during a grueling semester, I disabled my World of Warcraft account.

I know! Crazy, right?

Well considering the financial hit we just took I consider it prudent to leave it as is for the time being *sobs*. I’ll have to settle for other options like...

Regaining the gold trophy I earned in Plants Vs. Zombies – I accidentally deleted my profile when my old netbook died. This has been a source of great irritation to me. Up till now, I haven’t had the time to start over.

Get those last two golden eggs in my PC version of Angry Birds. Getting all three stars in those the levels is HARD

If nothing else, I can see what the replay value really is on the titles I have stacked aside.

- Heavy alcohol consumption (along with, but not limited to): Crying, breaking things, feelings of reduced self-worth and self-confidence, binge eating, more crying, etc.

Nah! Just kidding on this one.

Sorta.

- Blogging and blog reading: There are a ton of blogs I follow but I must admit to being a very crappy follower. There just never seems to be enough time to read them all and even comment on all the ones I do read. I guess, for now at least, I’ll be able to catch up.

- Books: My library card has been feel ing a little neglected of late. Time to rectify that.

- Movies: I have a stack of them that I’ve been getting around to. Is that Vince Vaughn/Kevin James movie any good?

- Fixing the leaky kitchen faucet: Okay, really! It’s been months! How hard is it to change a washer? I know there are others like myself who know all too well the inherent dangers of DIY projects but really! Wish me luck on this one.

- Finding another job: That one’s important. Gotta remember to do that one.

In truth, most of these will only keep me occupied until the end of next week. I’ll have to play it by ear from there.

That is unless one of you guy have something for me to do.

No, really! Skills include witty comments and ability to laugh at self. Throw me a bone here, guys.

Guys..?

The Day It All Changed

THEN:

Before this job, before banking, I was employed as a customs clerk and worked in a company’s shipping department. On that day I was on Queen’s Wharf, the main shipping port in north Trinidad. I was the main administrative building. I had just paid some storage rent for the cargo the company I worked for and was killing some time while one of my coworkers was coming to meet me. The TV was on and it was some boring local talk show that I wasn’t paying too much attention to. I was too focused on getting a new high score on Snake on my old Nokia 5160.

Soon I noticed a commotion going on around me. I looked up. Everyone was gathering in front of the television that was fixed to the wall. I looked at the screen to see what was going on. On it, a building was on fire. It took me only a few seconds to recognize that it was one of the World Trade Centre towers. I heard the reporter saying something about a horrible accident with a plane.

He had hardly finished saying it before the second plane came flying into the other tower.

“It good for dem!” another customs clerk shouted when realized that this was no accident, “Dem blasted Americans always interfering in other people business.”

I wanted to hit him. I don’t care what your opinion is, this isn’t the kind of thing you said was “good” for anyone.

“Aye, boy!” another clerk shouted back at him, “You can’t say dat! It have Trini’s there too you know.”

“Well then dey deserve what happen to dem!” said the first clerk, “Why dey leave sweet T&T to go up there? Ent dey look for what dey get?”

I left. I couldn’t stand listening to that conversation any longer. What was happening? Everything was normal up till that moment. In my mind, I knew everything was going to change. The world wasn’t perfect but at least, right up until I saw the news, I could fool myself into believing the world was a safe place. It had happened so far away, but I knew everything had turned upside down by this event. The game had changed and nothing was ever going to be the same. I hated whoever was responsible. My sense of safety and security was gone.

NOW:

Today I, along with millions of others, heard the news that the man responsible for those attacks almost ten years ago was killed in an assault on one of his compounds. Just like that, he was no more. I don’t celebrate his dying but I’m not going to mourn his death either. Of course, it isn’t over. My naive sense of safety was long since diminished since those days. At the very least, there’s one less instigator of fear and hatred in the world.

That will have to do.

Conversational Trini.

As mentioned, I'm Trinidadian. Once or twice in past entries made reference to my local dialect – which I refer to as “Trini-talk” & even dropped a phrase or two. So I decided it would be a good idea to introduce you to the colourful way in which we of Trinidad & Tobago (T&T) speak. I also decided that, before I got started, I would, first, give a brief history on the land I call home & how our dialect came to be. You know. Be all professional & stuff. Then I realized... I didn't know the history. Well, not so much that I didn't know it as I kinda... well... forgot. Don't gimme that look! I'm not particularly proud of me, either. Besides, it's not like I have actually had to make formal use of such knowledge. But, I decided not to obsess over my ignorance & focus on the matter at hand. Professionalism! That's right! I wasn't going to half-ass this one. I'm a man on a mission. So I pulled out the old history books googled Trinidad & Tobago's history (Dude, really. Like I kept my history books). After reading up only a few minutes I could no longer fight the overwhelming urge to go take a nap. When I woke up I realized that this was more work – and more boring – than I expected.

So here's what I can tell you in the least sleep inducing way possible & if you hang around till the end (or skip the middle - that could work too, I guess) there's a free sample:

Columbus came & brought the Spanish. They brought in African slaves after they all but drove the local natives to extinction. France later took control & now the poor slaves, on top of all their worries had to learn French. French, for Pete's sake! There was a little tug-o-war between France & Britain before the British eventually won & took over. Meanwhile, the Africans watched as yet another change in management took place & they were like, “Seriously! Dude we were just getting the hang of French. French, for Pete's sake! You know what, screw it! We'll just mix it in with the rest.” Soon enough slavery was abolished & Chinese immigrants & East-Indian indentured labourers were brought in to fill the work force. Over time, many other races & cultures joined the stew & all their languages were mixed in as well.

That's it. Done. (Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, after all...)

Anyhow, there you have it. That's how our local dialect here in T&T got it's start... more or less... Here's that sample:

Trini: Ah drink two smirnoff an meh head feelin' nice.

Translation: I'm a little tipsy from those two smirnoffs.

Trini: Oh goooooood! Like Vinny wife put down ah nex bess cook dey, boy!

Translation: Oh my! Vinny's wife seems to have, yet again, prepared an excellent meal. (She's a good cook. What can I say?)

Trini: Ah get hit wit ah serious macajuel syndrome after dah lunch.

Translation: Lunch today made me really lethargic.

Trini: Dah gyul dey. She could real bubble. Buh de odda one could real flex.

Translation: ??????????????! (Wait... What?...)

Trini: Aye, boy, come fas nah. Yuh stickin.

Translation: Dude, hurry up. You're taking too long.

Trini: Doh study she. Is so she stop.

Translation: Forget her. That's just how she is.

Now you see what I have to deal with. If you'll excuse me, it's time for another nap.