Speaking English is somewhat useful
I can actually remember the first time I communicated in English with a monolingual. I was six years old, and my mother, my sister, an older cousin, some friends of hers, and me, we all went for a little vacation in Florida, to see the amusement parks.
I was in some ride, at Disney World, I think. The ride involved a bunch of small, two-seat spaceships or something (strictly children-sized), attached by poles to a central, rotating structure. There was a control pole in the front seat, that the occupant could use to make the pole that attached the vehicle to the central thing pivot up or down, thereby altering the height at which the little spaceship or whatever it was "flew."
Obviously, this presented unparalleled opportunities for wild see-saw, up-and-down maneuvering. Which made it quite a shameful shameful that I was in the back seat, the one not provided with such a control yoke. In the front seat there was a random kid, who to the extend I can infer at this distance in time, wasn't much too attuned to the exciting prospects of his situation. That wondrous, joyful means of conveyance that we were at that moment occupying, he persevered in keeping at a constant maximum altitude.
Clearly I had to do something about this. So I told him something to the effect that he should not just stay up, but also venture on the ocassional dive downwards.
I can't recall the exact words I used for that. Suffice it to say that I uttered them in Spanish. Suddenly, I had a new problem in my hands: the boy was staring uncomprehendingly back at me.
I took the situation under control, and uttered my fateful first real communication in English: "Down!"
The stranger then made the aforementioned transport dive down. Briefly. He then proceeded to bring it back up and keep it there for the rest of the ride.
I was in some ride, at Disney World, I think. The ride involved a bunch of small, two-seat spaceships or something (strictly children-sized), attached by poles to a central, rotating structure. There was a control pole in the front seat, that the occupant could use to make the pole that attached the vehicle to the central thing pivot up or down, thereby altering the height at which the little spaceship or whatever it was "flew."
Obviously, this presented unparalleled opportunities for wild see-saw, up-and-down maneuvering. Which made it quite a shameful shameful that I was in the back seat, the one not provided with such a control yoke. In the front seat there was a random kid, who to the extend I can infer at this distance in time, wasn't much too attuned to the exciting prospects of his situation. That wondrous, joyful means of conveyance that we were at that moment occupying, he persevered in keeping at a constant maximum altitude.
Clearly I had to do something about this. So I told him something to the effect that he should not just stay up, but also venture on the ocassional dive downwards.
I can't recall the exact words I used for that. Suffice it to say that I uttered them in Spanish. Suddenly, I had a new problem in my hands: the boy was staring uncomprehendingly back at me.
I took the situation under control, and uttered my fateful first real communication in English: "Down!"
The stranger then made the aforementioned transport dive down. Briefly. He then proceeded to bring it back up and keep it there for the rest of the ride.