I took Caitlin to Spar this evening so that we could purchase random food stuffs, including champagne which we are drinking tomorrow evening in celebration of my cousin’s engagement: congrats Chris and Dana! And also as Champagne Night, part of my I-want-to-be-intoxicated-all-week in celebration of finishing midterms.
Anyway, as we were squatting, looking at the bottom shelf examining types and costs, a fellow champagne purchaser asked me which prices corresponded to which, and I told him. After standing up straight we had a short convo and he asked where we were from, and after answering the US he said he’d just spent four years in New York, but was actually Hungarian. Which floored me because he didn’t look Hungarian at all nor did he have an accent, and I would think if anyone would be familiar with a Hungarian supermarket, it wouldn’t be the kid who’s been here for four months.
He couldn’t decide which kind to get, so try to be helpful, I recommended getting both—I mean really, together it would have been about $7 dollars, hardly a dent in your pocket. He stood there a moment longer as we looked over the juice section and then finally turned to us and said, “You know what, I’m going to take your advice and get both.” I was glad to have helped out.
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