Times When I Feel Polish

• When I expect the trash can at a friend’s house to be under the sink.
• When I’m generally surprised and confused to find that it isn’t.
• “Are you Russian?”
• “Ukrainian?”
• “Are you sure?”
• “Wait, where’s Poland?”
• “Do you guys have the internet over there?”
• The inevitable twinge of rage when people don’t take their shoes off upon entering the house.
• When I order a drink without ice and the bartender looks at me weird.
• When I ask them to make it a little stronger and get charged double.
• When being a vegetarian means I can only eat salad and bread at family functions.
• When my family thinks that’s all I eat in real life.
• Confusion and dismay when an American wedding ends at midnight.
• Getting the urge to ask if there’s an after party.
• Wanting to get married partly for the 24-hour mini-rave that is a Polish wedding.
• “Say something in Polish.”
• “I don’t care, just say something!”
• “Oh wait my mom’s on the phone, can you say it again? Here.”
• “Yak she mash…? Did I say that right?”
• “How are you drunk already?! You’re Polish!”
• Feeling proud that John Paul II was Polish for some reason.
• Still being made to go to church on Christmas and Easter.
• Still being elbowed in the ribs for chewing gum in church.
• Still not understanding the point of an Easter basket.
• Also not understanding why people with garages leave their cars out on the driveway.
• When people ask if I’m a natural blonde.
• When I say yes and they don’t believe me.
• When I think it’s totally normal to make a pizza with ketchup instead of pizza sauce.
• When someone asks me what’s in blood sausage.
• When they get irritated because all I know is “blood.”
• When my friends come over and I automatically ask what they want to eat.
• Having to stop myself from correcting people when they say “pierogies” instead of “pierogi.”
• “When did you come to America?”
• “Oh, so you’re American.”
• When I use the “I’m Polish” excuse for everything from hating peanut butter and jelly
• sandwiches to never having seen Star Wars.
• When people use the “I’m Polish” excuse for me – as in, “You wouldn’t know, you’re Polish.”
• When I get offended by that even though sometimes they’re right.
• Genuine disappointment when I meet someone Polish who doesn’t speak it.
• Even worse disappointment when they can but don’t want to.
• When people assume that I know stuff about soccer.
• When I have no idea about soccer but party on game days anyway.
• When my #1 choice of neighborhood is actually Greenpoint.
• No, I’m not kidding.
• When people ask if I’m moving back to Poland even though I haven’t lived there for 18 years.
• “So do you guys still hate Germany?”

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