Let us tell you a little story: years ago, while we were waiting for a flight out of Austin, TX, we stopped into the airport Dickey’s Barbecue Pit (yes, we know, what can we say?) for something to eat. As we were waiting for our food, a businessman-looking fellow walked up:

African-American kid taking orders: Can I help you?

Businessman (with that unmistakably cheerful uffda accent, pointing at a smoked sausage):  Let me have one of those red weenies on a stick!

Kid (looking confused): Excuse me?

Businessman: Put one of those red weenies on a stick for me, willya?

Kid sheepishly looks left, right, behind him, then turns back to his customer with a helpless look on his face: I don’t understand what you’re saying. Continue reading