"Hey dude."

The wedding was our last night in Glasgow. We'd gathered for pre-wedding drinks around noon, and were finally back at John and Lorraine's at one in the morning.

I raced upstairs to change out of my "heels turned to instruments-of-torture" and into jeans and a sweater. Ahh, the blessed relief of unzipping the dress and stepping out of the shoes!

After we changed, everyone congregated in the kitchen for a snack before bed. Lorraine and I had roasted cheese, which involves using a broiler to melt slices of sharp cheddar onto bread, and adding black pepper. As far as I know, anyway, the key ingredients (broiler, sharp cheddar, black pepper) are always the same. Funny how it tastes completely different from a grilled cheese sandwich, but I swear it does!

For the most part, Elaine's family had taken our presence in stride. We talked about the trip, and how Elaine and I had worked together, but there hadn't been a lot of questions about "What's America like?" and "Have you ever seen a gun?" or "Have you ever been on the Jerry Springer Show?" etc.

At the last moment though, her teen-aged cousin Rebecca couldn't resist.

On the way upstairs, she turned to Keith and me and said, "Can you please say 'Hey, dude.' Just once."

I looked at her. "Hey, dude?" I said, puzzled, trying to figure out the significance of that phrase.

She clapped her hands together. "That's brilliant! I've been wanting to ask you that since you first came! One more time, please!"

I repeated "Hey, dude" still with a slightly quizzical tone, having a hard time believing that I was saying it.

Rebecca bounded up the stairs, thrilled to hear a live American saying "Hey, dude."

I still haven't figured out what was so thrilling about the phrase, but at least it was a lot easier to say that than to explain what America's like or how Bush got elected a second time :/