After a while, Silke asks me about my surgery. I mentioned that I am healing well, but in trying to clean the medical tape residue with nail polish remover, I managed to get some in the incision. Her mother understood enough to realize how painful this was and winced. Silke winced, too. Then she grinned and asked me why I had nail polish remover.
Trying to be on my best behavior lest I offend a complete stranger, I realized that strangling Silke was not an option. So I was honest. I sometimes hang out at goth/industrial clubs and sometimes, when I do this, I paint my fingernails black. No one in the clubs bats and eyelash but I didn't know how conservative her mother was. This was not something I had planned to bring up.
Regrettably, Siegrid appeared to be a little concerned about this. She frowned, knitted her brows and hastily started speaking to Silke in German. At this point, Silke also appeared confused. Apparently her mother wanted to know why I painted my nails to go golfing. She thought I said "golf clubs."
This, however, was not the best "oopsie" of the evening. It seems that when Silke first moved to our country, her English had a few gaps. When a friend of hers was applying for a job where she worked, the interviewing manager asked Silke what her friend was like. Silke's friend was a bit shy around people. Or perhaps reticent. Or nervous. Or any of a number of ways you could describe someone who's a bit anti-social. Silke couldn't think of any of these words. However, this educated member of the master race knew her Latin! Her friend was afraid of people. Fear is "phobia." Man is "homo."
"My friend is homophobic."
Her friend, needless to say, did not get the job.