I am now all-too-well acquainted with older-model pool tables.
The school just happened to have a pool table and about 5 queues and tonight, after sitting and discussing our lack of playing cards, someone mentioned the pool table. So 6 of us went to play - teams of 3. Now, this was a slightly motley crew, to say the least. 3 Spanish professors: Dessirre, Dorian, and Erika; if I had to guess I'd put them in their 30s. Hugo, old enough to be my grandfather? Nicolas, 34. And of course, myself. After going over the "rules" - the French rules that is, we commenced a 3-hour game.
Now, I'm not the best at pool at home. By that I mean I am by far the worst in any game no matter who I am playing. Not so here! I got the first two balls in, somehow, and then I think it was an hour before anyone got any more. When I say I know how old pool tables work, I mean that I know that they DON'T work. The pockets are the same size but their openings are much smaller. It was possible to hit a ball from one end to a point exactly opposite it on the other end without hitting the ball in between - I will never complain about an "uneven" pool table again. And finally, the queues were missing their tips. I think I scratched more in 5 minutes of that game than the rest of my pool-playing career put together (which isn't really saying anything, but you get the idea...).
We played for a while until the other ladies went to bed, and then we played for a while longer. And something amazing happened. We'd all been speaking in Spanish all week because that was the one language that we could all understand at least passably well. But at some point, it was like we stopped speaking any language. The phrase, "your turn," the grunts of frustration, groans of disappointment, yawns of exhaustion, smiles of accomplishment, those have no language. It was just friendly enjoyment and competition in which words are superfluous, a universal language.
The school just happened to have a pool table and about 5 queues and tonight, after sitting and discussing our lack of playing cards, someone mentioned the pool table. So 6 of us went to play - teams of 3. Now, this was a slightly motley crew, to say the least. 3 Spanish professors: Dessirre, Dorian, and Erika; if I had to guess I'd put them in their 30s. Hugo, old enough to be my grandfather? Nicolas, 34. And of course, myself. After going over the "rules" - the French rules that is, we commenced a 3-hour game.
Now, I'm not the best at pool at home. By that I mean I am by far the worst in any game no matter who I am playing. Not so here! I got the first two balls in, somehow, and then I think it was an hour before anyone got any more. When I say I know how old pool tables work, I mean that I know that they DON'T work. The pockets are the same size but their openings are much smaller. It was possible to hit a ball from one end to a point exactly opposite it on the other end without hitting the ball in between - I will never complain about an "uneven" pool table again. And finally, the queues were missing their tips. I think I scratched more in 5 minutes of that game than the rest of my pool-playing career put together (which isn't really saying anything, but you get the idea...).
We played for a while until the other ladies went to bed, and then we played for a while longer. And something amazing happened. We'd all been speaking in Spanish all week because that was the one language that we could all understand at least passably well. But at some point, it was like we stopped speaking any language. The phrase, "your turn," the grunts of frustration, groans of disappointment, yawns of exhaustion, smiles of accomplishment, those have no language. It was just friendly enjoyment and competition in which words are superfluous, a universal language.
Love the last bit...I wonder just how much communication is universal!!
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