Friday Flashback

Yesterday was a day of sequels: a return to the doctor, sushi, Spider Man 3, and the ugly American rears its oh-so-ugly-head once more.

First, to the doctor, where I was to have a specialist examine my month-broken left ring finger that is still abnormally swollen. The doctor was a veritable Chilean Santa Claus, complete with white beard, jolly demeanor, rosy cheeks and a red shirt to boot. After hearing my labor to describe my symptoms in Spanish, he smiled, explained how he had just returned from a trip to the U.S., and began his diagnosis in near-perfect English.

Great.

As it turns out, the type of fracture I have (infinitesimally small) take a long time to heal, and there’s not a whole lot I can do. Except physical therapy.

Why not?

The physical therapist was nice enough, although I was a little weirded out by the routine, which included dipping my hand in paraffin, ultrasound (I felt like an expecting mother) and concluding with minor electric shocks. Of course, halfway through the session she politely asked if she could practice her English. Of course, I don’t mind, I responded.

After a routine trip to the gym (where there was a TV news crew filming god knows what) I returned home for a quick, light dinner, then jammed into the Metro at rush hour to meet the crew for sushi and Spider Man downtown. While the sushi joint (which offers half price discounts after 8, since most Chileans eat large lunches and small dinners) had been all but abandoned the Tuesday night we had been there a few weeks past, they had no room for our 10-person party this Thursday. But they did offer take out.

What did we do? Simply eat our 100-odd-piece sushi dinner family style, sitting on the floor in the lobby outside the restaurant. Other than a minor incident involving soy sauce, a spilled beer, and countless awkward looks from Chileans, all went well. Once you come to terms with being the annoying gringo and embrace it, things get much easier.

This came in handy when we next went to McDonalds and I dropped my cone (still holding out on eating actual McDonalds food) while, being the philanthropist that I am, attempting to donate my 30 Chilean pesos in change, I dropped my cone. But due to my acute Spidey senses, I caught it with my (recently rehabilitated left hand). The server gladly offered to replace it, being that I would have to now lick the ice cram off my hand (I wasn’t that graceful in my rescue). Initially, imbued with false American pride, I politely refused, but then noticing the looks my friends were giving me, and the imploring face of the McDonalds employee, I sheepishly accepted.

Of Spider Man, there’s not much to say, except that it was terrible. There was even one scene where he blatantly poses while soaring across an American flag. To remedy our image abroad, we elected to boo the screen. Not sure if it worked.