‘Where are you from?’
This is a question posed by strangers, meant innocently I understand, but one that gets on my nerves, mostly because it is exasperating to have repeated this conversation ad infinitum. Here’s how it, reliably, goes:
Q: Where are you from?
Me: I’m from New York
Q: No you’re not!
Me: You know better?
Q: But you have an accent!
Me: You must be a musician with such a fine ear
Q: Australia?
Me: No
Q: South Africa?
Me: No
Q: Canada?
Me: No
Q: New Zealand?
Me: No
Q: Ok, I give up, where are you from?
Me: I already told you a fucking hour ago, I’m from New York. Born in New York City. Would you like to see my ID?
Q: But you have an accent?
Me: I’m half American and my mother is from Serbia.
Q: What?
Me: What?
Q: What?
Me: What?
Q: So, where is Siberia?
Image by John Martini©
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Hilarious! How cool would it be to really come from Siberia! Escaped from a Gulag perhaps? xxx