“I apologize; so, you are Americans?” he inquired in a very poor accent. He spoke a little English and was trying out the little he did know. I had a hard time understanding him, but it didn’t matter to me what he spoke; I could understand Spanish. I think he was trying to show off.
“So, what brings you to Monterrey, my friends?” he asked very chattily.
“No es asunto tuyo. Solo manejar!” Antonio rudely responded. (It’s none of your business. Just drive.)
I looked over at Antonio wanting to tell him to take it easy on the poor guy. Even Madeline, who probably understood every word, glanced over at him.
“No need to be rude, Antonio,” I said.
Antonio rolled his eyes and sat back. The driver stayed focused on the road and drove as he was ordered.
“Me disculpo por mi amigo,” I said. (I ap
