When I was in high school, there were only a few kids to make up a small youth group. Occasionally, we took trips to the mountains, a lake, or to youth rallies. We didn't live near water, so trips to the lake were cherished with full attendance. A few church members owned boats, and one family had something we affectionately called a "water weenie." It was red and looked like it should fit inside a giant hot dog bun. There were 6 handles on the top side, enough for 6 people to sit and hold on for dear life. The water weenie was pulled behind a boat full of screaming kids and peering adults. The goal of the driver was to sway the weenie this way and that, causing as many teenagers to jump ship as possible. It was a complete blast, and generally if one fell, all 6 were sucked under water. We left with bruises, seared skin and burning lungs, but it was always worth the trip.
On one particular outing such as this, we hit the water. The sun was blazing off the murky lake. The wind swirled through our hair, and we were ready to ride. We piled on the water weenie and held on. We gave up only using one arm for 8 seconds, and instead grasped the strap with a death grip. We swished through the water and leaned left and right. My eyes were stinging with spray and I could hear those around me yelling and laughing. A faint voice from the back hollered, "RAE'S GONE!!" We looked back, and sure enough Rae was floating at an increasingly far distance back. We started waving an arm and yelling, "RAE'S GONE!!!!" to those in the boat. They yelled back at us but didn't stop. We were confused and kept yelling to get their attention. Finally, someone bailed off and they stopped the boat. Apparently the reason they hadn't stopped earlier is because they thought we were saying, "PRAISE GOD!"... well, it was a youth group trip.
This story serves as an intro for what happened tonight. My family and I were enjoying a margarita at our favorite Mexican food restaurant while eating supper. Our Spanish-speaking waiter came by and asked if we would like any more. We told him, "No thanks!" He said something in response, but we didn't understand him. He repeated himself twice and after the third, "HUH?" from my uncle, I decided to interpret for him. I spoke loudly, "HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!" Matt said to the waiter, "Oh!" and then, "To you, too! Feliz Navidad!"
Come to find out, the poor Waiter had simply informed us that it was still "Happy Hour" and not "Happy Holidays". HA! That's what I get for trying to fix things.
Praise God and Happy "Hour" and Holidays to all of you out there! :)