That’s me.

I open my mouth in a European market, and out comes a confusion of speech, a jumble of gibberish–here a French word, there a German, then a mischeivous Turkish phrase.  I’ve lost all control over my tongue.

I’m trying to reign in this problem, but it is hard.  We stepped over the border into France again Saturday, and this is where the big troubles always begin.  In Germany, I speak lots of English and the splattering of German that I can manage so far. (Still studying up!)  Sometimes French or Turkish words sneak into my speech, but they are the odd escapee from under the fence.  I have some control over my language.

Then I step over the border, and all hell breaks loose.  My brain seems incapable of releasing only the French words from their cell block.  No, that would be too orderly.  The gates fall and all the imprisoned words escape at once–a melee of language, a fracas of phrasing.  A mess.  Really.  Or is it?

Mess-peranto.  A new international language for people who make a mess of languages.  Let’s start a movement!  This could be like Esperanto for people who are enterprising enough to know smatterings of a few languages, but too lazy to actually order and develop their linguistic skills.

Bad idea?

I’m pretty sure the French cashier I practiced on thought so.