George tells the best stories. The stories he told this morning had me doubled over with laughter for a good ten minutes. We started talking about car accidents, and George said,
“Ach, I haf two stories for you. Za first vas ven I vas in a taxi and za taxi driver hit a voman who vas turning in front of him. I vas sitting in za back of za car – not behind za driver, but in za ozer back seat. Za seat in front of me must haf gone forvard in za crash, and I flew out of my seat and straight srough za front vindow. I suddenly found myself sitting down on za road in front of two burning cars. I vas bleeding on za head, but I felt okay. I didn’t know vy I vas zere, but I felt okay. I lit a cigarette and began to smoke. Someone rushed toward me and said, “Are you hurt?” I said, “I am fine.” Then someone shouted, “Are you an idiot? Stop smoking, zere is petrol everywhere.” I said, “I vant to smoke and I am fine.” Zey took me to za hospital anyvay, and told me zat I had a severe concussion. I said, “I am fine, and I vant to leaf now.” So I left. On za one hour airplane ride back to Vienna, I vas sitting vis a friend whose birsday it vas. In zat one hour, we drank eight bottles of vhiskey, celebrating his birsday and my new birs. Ven za plane arrived in Vienna, I vas so drunk zat it did not occur to me zat I should not drive my car. I remember zat it vas very hard to see za vhite line in za middle of za road. Anyvay, I lived next to za German ambassador, and he had guards patrolling za grounds efery day. In shifts, you know. Six hours or eight. I knew zese guards very vell because I vould alvays say hello to zem ven zey began zeir shifts, and zey vould alvays say, “Hello, George, how are you?”
Ven I pulled up into my drifevay, I opened za car door and immediately fell on za ground. One of za guards rushed ofer and said, “George, are you okay?” I vas on za ground vis bandages on my head from za concussion and bandages on my hands. I said, “I am drunk,” and I began to sing (George demonstrated singing in German here). He said, “ssshhh, be quiet and go to bed.” But I kept singing. I vent into za back and sat on za bin and continued to sing. Finally my vife and za guard got me into bed. Za next day I vas almost dead and I had to spend ten days in za hospital.”
“Za second story is ven I vas drifing home from a business trip. I had drifen all ofer Austria already zat day, and vas very tired. Za road vent down za mountain in… vat do you call it… do you know “serpentine?” Ahyah, so, I vas drifing down a serpentine and I fell asleep going 100 miles per hour. My car hit a rock on za side of za road, and it propelled my car into za air. I saw a house I vas flying ofer (I vas avake zen), and my car flew srough za air 100 feet to za ozer side of za serpentine, hitting za trees on za vay down. All za time I vas thinking, “Zis vill do some damage to my car…” Finally my car hit za ground. It vas on fire, so I got out and valked avay. It had not exploded – it vas only on fire – but I sought it vould explode soon. So I vas standing at a distance, smoking a cigarette again and bleeding from za head (I am alvays bleeding from za head), ven someone stopped zeir car and shouted, “Are you okay?”
I said, “Vell, I cannot drife, but my car is not exactly drifeable anyvay.”
Just zen my car exploded.
I am a very lucky man. It vas za rock zat propelled me into za air and za trees zat slowed my fall zat safed my life. But I should be dead. Many times, I should be dead.
I haven’t laughed so hard in months. George seemed amused at my amusement.
“Vell, at least I haf made you laugh.”
“Yes, Geroge,” I tried to pull myself together, “you have made me laugh.”
George has a very good sense of humor about most things. When Maria and I came home from the Saturday market last week, we found George sitting in the study with a massive bruise on his right foot and cuts all over his hands.
“Goodness, what happened, George?”
“I vent to feed za horses zis morning, and Rocky stood on my foot and pushed me over. (Laughing) I vent flying into za mud and lost my spectacles. I had to crawl on my hands and knees srough za muck until I found zem. I did not vant za horses to step on zem, too. I vas so angry zat I srew za bucket at Rocky, but I missed him because I vas not vearing my spectacles. I said, “Rocky, you stepped on my foot!” He looked at me and said, “I do not care.” Zen I found my spectacles. But (Laughter) you should haf seen me crawling srough za mud on my hands and knees. (laughter) Vill someone please brush za mud off my jacket?”
George’s business in Austria was one of the first to implement computer technology. For many years, George was glued to his desk and his computer screen. Since retiring to Ireland to breed racehorses, George has sworn off computers; until my arrival, that is. After witnessing the power of Google to look up various recipes for dinner, he has taken a keen interest to looking up his long-lost Hungarian relatives (on his mother’s side). I’ve Googled his father, his grandmother, and a distant cousin of his. I’ve even Googled George, and witnessed his disappointment when nothing really showed up. The only thing that saves George from becoming a complete Internet addict is that the Internet at Knockara is so very slow, and George has very little patience for such things.
George has very strong opinions and preferences which he manages to forget about on a consistent basis. I approve of this forgetfulness, as it keeps one from getting too close-minded and set in one's ways. We were talking about Poland the other day (there are a lot of Polish people moving to Ireland for work, despite the floundering economy), and George said emphatically, "You know vat I lof za most about za Polish? Zey haf za most beautiful vomen in za vorld. Beautiful people."
The next day we were talking about India and how it was high on my list of places to visit. George said emphatically, "You know vat I lof za most about za Indians? Zey haf za most beautiful vomen in za vorld. Beautiful people."
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