I was waiting tables in a noisy lobster restaurant in Maine when a vacationing Southerner stumped me with a drink order. I approached the bartender. “Have you ever heard of a drink called ‘Seven Young Blondes’?” I asked.
He admitted he’d never heard of it, and grabbed a drink guidebook to look it up. Unable to find the recipe, he then asked me to go back and tell the patron that he’d be happy to make the drink if he could list the ingredients for him. “Sir,” I asked the customer, “can you tell me what’s in that drink?”
He looked at me like I was crazy. “It’s wine,” he said, pronouncing his words carefully, “Sauvignon blanc.”
At the end of a visit to Amsterdam, a friend borrowed an old suitcase from his hosts to carry home his souvenirs. At the airport, however, a customs officer subjected our friend’s luggage to a thorough search and even sent for a drug-sniffing dog. Sure enough, the dog entered the area, headed straight for the borrowed bag and went into a frenzy. The customs officer now intensified his search, but ultimately he found nothing.
After arriving home, the young man immediately phoned his hosts and told them how puzzled he’d been by the dog’s behavior.
“Perhaps,” the owner of the suitcase said, “it was because that’s the bag our cat usually sleeps in.”