My family and I traveled to Southern California to visit the San Diego Zoo and Sea World. Aside from a scary moment on the freeway when my right front tire shredded its tread, it was a great trip. We took Interstate 5 down to make the best time, but on the way home we wanted to take the kids up the coastal route.

At about the half-way mark, there is a town called Paso Robles. It is about 20 to 30 minutes north of San Luis Obispo. The town is well known to my wife and I because we had lived in the area when we were first married.

Paso Robles is a nice town, far enough away from the coast to avoid the fog, and nestled into the Oak covered hills of the coastal mountain range. The name Paso Robles, which in Spanish means Pass of the Oaks, is just south of a town called San Miguel. San Miguel has a beautiful, historic mission along the El Camino Real. The area has a strong foundation of Latino influence.

I have always considered myself lucky to have married into a Latino family. I have had far more exposure to the rich Latino culture than most Anglos. I'm very comfortable in the Latino community, can speak a little Spanish, and I'm used to Spanish accents.

In Paso Robles, we stopped at one of our favorite hamburger joints to get lunch. We had been driving for hours and I was tired and hungry. Everyone in my family knows that when I am hungry, I get grumpy.

We went into the drive through lane to order our lunch. At the speaker box, we placed our orders. A lady with a heavy Spanish accent spoke, "Welcome to Burger King. May I take jor (your) order, please?" The kids were taking forever to make up their minds and my patience was running thin.

I said, I'd like a Double Whopper and a Coke. She says, "Which is?" I said, rather stunned at the question, "It's a hamburger." "Jes" she says, meaning yes. Okay, next order. I say, "I'd also like a plain Whopper, with fries and a Sprite." She says, "Which is?" I say, incredulously, "It's… a…hamburger!"

"Jes, thank you," she said, and I ordered the rest of the food.

I'm thinking to myself, what the hell is she thinking? All the time I was ordering the food my wife and kids were irritating me with their chatter and laughter. I couldn't hear what they were saying because I was concentrating on the order. I tried to ignore them until finally I said, tight lipped, "What are you laughing at?". I

n unison, they hollered back, "She is saying, "With cheese!" Do you want cheese on your hamburger?" I felt about two inches tall. Aye, aye, aye. What a pendejo I was!

I'll never live that one down. Years later, my son still rubs it in my nose whenever the opportunity arises. "With Cheese?" he says.

"Shut up" I reply.