Why I <3 Chinatown

The opportunity to use my increasingly rudimentary Chinese

I used to speak Chinese, nearly fluently. Now, I speak at roughly the same proficiency as a retarded chimpanzee might. Fortunately, I can still say one or two words with a decent accent, and can understand when Chinese people are talking smack about me, which happens with alarming regularity. Then I can interject a word or two in Chinese and watch the foot shuffling and blushing that occurs when people suddenly realize that you know that they just called you a cow fart. It’s empowering to make people squirm, and a good reason to learn foreign languages.