When You Look Like Your Passport Photo, It's Time To Go Home by Erma Bombeck Page A

kind.”
    “Right. And Prince Charles has two lions tattooed on his bicep. Why are you so stubborn about this loose woman who cavorts around in the buff?”
    “And why are you so vindictive and judgmental about a person you have never seen . . . fully clothed. Frankly, I'd like to see her become a member of our family.”
    “She steps a foot in this family and I'm outta here,” I said, jamming my needlepoint in the bag.
    “Is this an ultimatum?”
    “You bet your sweet bird it is.”
    At this point, the other figure, a male nude bather wearing only a wedding ring, jumped into the water and joined our nymph friend on the rock.
    My husband said, “Now he's slime.”
    “It's funny,” I said, “he struck me as someone who would be very kind to his mother.”
    The iciness between us was still there at dinner. When Marguerita served us the soup I tapped her on the arm and pantomimed taking off all my clothes and pointed to the beach and waved my arms like I was swimming.
    “She doesn't understand you,” said my aunt.
    “Does the word slut have any meaning in your language?” I shouted.
    She looked puzzled, then smiled and went to the kitchen. When she returned, she had a picture of the man and woman we had seen on the beach without clothes. She pointed to the woman, then cradled her arms like she was rocking a baby.
    “She is telling you those people in the nude are her daughter and son-in-law,” said my husband.
    I turned to my son, smiled, and said, “Give me a nice noun and a verb . . . quick!”
    On the next to the last day at the villa as we summed up our three weeks, it was a miracle we had survived. We had pantomimed our way through Perpignan, France, where we took a day trip. No one in our party spoke a single word of French. We had made it to the bullfights in Barcelona, and every other day we actually looked forward to going to the marketplace where it was more social than necessary.
    When we were told the owner of the villa, an Englishman, was due that night, I must admit we were all pretty excited at the prospect of speaking English again.
    He invited us for drinks to the guest house where he was holding forth. His first words were, “Well, ahsposeyuvad a raaathaventrous time at the villa?”
    We all leaned forward, straining for something we thought we had missed.
    “I beg your pardon?”
    “I say . . . iopeather . . . you mericansadnuf of ah jolly whatimeto retn.”
    My God, he talked like “Masterpiece Theatre” on fast forward. None of us had a clue as to what he was saying.
    I positioned myself in front of his face and said slowly in a loud voice, “HOW LONG HAVE YOU OWNED THE VILLA?” As he answered, we all nodded and smiled from time to time. Mother grabbed an hors d'oeuvre, rubbed her stomach, smacked her lips, and said, “Yummy, yummy.”
     
     
     
     
     
    Six Worst Arguments
    on Vacation
     
    A good argument, when conducted properly, takes the time and full attention of two people.
    When performed at home, an argument suffers from too many interruptions and outside pressures. The phone rings. Someone is late for work. Children must be fed. Sometimes one party will break in with, “Are you finished? 'Knots Landing' starts in five minutes.” You get busy.
    On a vacation, however, there are no limitations on how far you can take a disagreement. For most couples it is the most time they have spent together since their honeymoon. Courtesy has given way to time. Some of our better arguments have erupted on foreign soil.
    topic: “Why can't you admit you're lost?”
    place: Copenhagen, Denmark
    length of argument: Thirty-six hours
    highlights:
    “What's with you men? Would hair stop growing on your chest if you asked directions somewhere?”
    “I did write down the word you gave me at each corner. How was I to know it was the Danish word for 'street'?”
    “What do you mean, 'Does anything look familiar'? I just got here, remember. I'm not taking another step until you are sure you