Why would you learn Latin?

Last night, Erik, Seb and I went to Erik’s favorite restaurant. He’d been wanting to go because last time we went, he had some potato wedges off of Seb’s plate and declared them the best potato wedges in the universe. (He’s also the type to say “do you mind if I take a little bite of your sandwich?” I love his lack of boundaries and how free he feels in his manners. He’s like a communist.)

And then halfway through dinner (not that the food has arrived but we’d been waiting for 45m already) a man and a woman came to join us. The man is from Ukraine and now lives in Paris. The woman is from Poland and now lives in Paris. When they asked me where I’m from I said California. Seb said it’s called America and I said California is a little different than the rest, and I lifted my chin and shooed off some invisible rats from the table.

And the poor man “only” speaks Ukrainian and Russian and French, no English. The woman speaks 5 or 6 languages but, and she apologized for this, no German (she said only very ambitious people learn German). She had to translate for the man and I said to Erik, “don’t you speak French? Don’t they make you learn French in school?” He said they only had to learn English and one other elected language and he elected to learn Fucking Useless Latin.

Erik gtfo of this table and let the adults speak French.

I almost said that but then I remembered Erik is the one who assembled the group together in the first place.

Erik also found his potato wedges doch nicht so lecker now that they’re on his own plate, and will order Seb’s lamb shanks next.