While running errands the other day, Eric and I passed a Ferreteria, a Spanish sort of hardware store marked by a large black and yellow sign, and remembering that we needed to replace a light bulb in our apartment, stepped inside.
Once we communicated our need for said light bulb to the extremely helpful clerk, he proceeded to discuss the benefits and virtues of choosing an energy efficient light bulb, which as it turns out is much better for the environment and lasts on average 8 years, though more expensive. We explained that as renters for only a couple of more months, we would decline the obviously superior bulb and instead go for the cheapest and crappiest bulb they had to offer.
Light bulb procured, we looked around the Ferreteria for anything else we might need, and remembered that we were in the market for some duct tape. One of our suitcases is falling apart and what better way to whip it into shape than to use the greatest invention ever to grace the planet Earth. So, naturally, we asked the clerk for tape to which the responded by leading us to the glue isle.
"No," I said. "We need tape. The really strong kind. You know, duct tape."
"For sticking something together?" he asked.
"Exactly," I responded.
"Then may I suggest this fine glue," he continued, and began a dissertation on the different uses and types of glue as well as the efficaciousness of each type the store carried.
"No, we really would just like some duct tape," I repeated.
"What for?" he asked. "What do you need it to fix?"
Eric and I turned to each other and almost simultaneously responded, "Everything."
The poor clerk couldn't understand what kind of tape we could be talking about that would fix everything, and when we explained our intentions I'm sure he pictured a large piece of luggage flimsily held together by standard scotch tape. Finally, I picked up a cloth belt wrapped in circle that was lying next to the glue and held it up to the clerk and simply said, "It's like this."
You could see the energy efficient light bulb go off in his head and he smiled knowingly. "Cinta Americana," he said. American Tape. He then led us around the corner to where the light bulbs were kept and pointed to a row containing many different sizes and colors of glorious duct tape.
Cinta Americana. American Tape. Mission accomplished.