During my trip to Slovakia,
the one where I nearly made it to a Metallica concert, I had the pleasure of riding with Tibor again. Though, on this occasion, he was letting a friend do the driving.
I was sitting in the back seat between my friend and another of Tibor's crew when Tibor, sitting in the front passenger seat, produced a block of cheese and a knife from his coat pocket.
"Try this cheese," he beckoned, handing me a slice.
"Damn! This cheese is awesome!" I exclaimed.
"I know! Smell your hand!!" he said with pride.
"What am I eating?" I queried, recalling a somewhat familiar flavor.
"It's an African name and I can't pronounce it," he replied.
"Let me see the package."
I looked at the package to read "Blue Cheese." Confused, I paused and turned the package over looking for anything "African" or hard to pronounce. "Blue" wasn't even spelled with "eu." Tibor's English is actually quite good, and since I had seen him interpret the markings on road signs accurately, I knew he could read. I asked him if he liked blue cheese and he responded in the affirmative. He even noted that it was his favorite.
There are times in one's life when the uneasy feeling of ignorance caused by confusion compels a person to probe, relentlessly, toward discovery and truth. There are other times when you shouldn't press a guy who can pull a block of cheese and a knife out of his pocket like a magic trick.
I passed the cheese back to Tibor as it began to rain. The new driver looked as confused as I felt testing switches on the car's instrument panel trying to activate the windshield wipers. The rain was getting pretty heavy and Tibor instructed his friend to get out and take a look at the wipers to see if there were any problems. The friend obliged and stood in the rain for about 10 seconds before diving back, quite wet, into the car.
"There aren't any wipers!" he shouted.
"I know," replied Tibor, calmly. "Isn't that cool? Wipers are so 80's anyway."
"What the hell are you talking about, man?" said my friend, chiming in. "Now we can't drive."
Tibor held fast. He knew to his core that removing the wipers was not only awesome, but a smart thing to do. Some people really
do like fruit cake.
"Pass that mystery cheese back here again, Tibor," I said, trying to lighten the mood.
Having entered the Twilight Zone, it just seemed necessary to have some smelly fingers.