Have you ever been in a conversation with someone where you knew you were both speaking the same language–even the same dialect–but somehow it felt like you were speaking different languages? Where somehow something got lost in mix, and you simply weren’t communicating?
I remember one time being in deep south Texas, near the Louisiana border, and listening to a guy with Cajun influences speaking to his son about “mudding”–driving four-wheelers through the mud. It was the funniest thing to me, because they were both so excited and animated about what they were saying, and they were speaking English, but between the dialect and the lingo I couldn’t understand a word they were saying. I just knew they were happy from the nonverbals they were using.