It began innocently enough. I overheard the teenage barista gush about traveling soon to Japan with her Japanese boyfriend. Having been to the Land of the Rising Sun fifty years ago, during each visit to the coffee shop I mangled phrases for good morning, thank you and delicious, then I got more creative and held up the brew she just poured saying – Die-Joe-Boo-Dieoh– it’s all good. She laughed politely. I felt like an old sen-say teacher imparting my wisdom, but the next morning she introduced me to her jealous boyfriend who told me it wasn’t “all good” in perfect English.
"Classic"
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