Gringos, Gaijins, and Haoles: Installment No. 1
I walk into the bodega at 8 am to the cheerful chorus of “WEDO!!!” I’m feeling all warm inside, like ‘Norm’ from Cheers must have felt. In addition to “¿Que pasa carnal?”, three or four of my co-workers greet my entrance enthusiastically with this seemingly friendly ‘wedo’ jab. And because they call the light-skinned guy from Guatemala by the same name, I don’t feel so bad being the only white guy in a workplace that’s 90% Latino. I stroll as casually (looking) as possible up to Ulises, my closest work buddy, as he speeds around on one of many near-graveyard-quality forqlifs.
“Chango!” says he, with a bright smile.
The Dialect 