Mandarin Tang

Attempting to make sense out of non-sense.

This morning when San Geraldo asked for his second cup of coffee, Tynan said, “Real men drink Tang.” Don’t ask me why. Sometimes (often), Tynan says things that make sense only to Tynan. Other times (even more often), the things Tynan says don’t make sense even to Tynan.

San Geraldo doesn’t always understand Tynan’s English Midlands accent. So, on those rare occasions when Tynan actually does make sense, I usually have to translate for San Geraldo anyway. Today, when he looked to me for a translation, I repeated, “Real men drink Tang.” San Geraldo raised his eyebrows and I said, “I have no idea.”

When Tynan came by again, San Geraldo gave him the American perspective, saying, “We don’t call it Mandarin Tang. We just call it Tang.”

Tynan smiled, nodded his head in my direction as if to say, ‘This one’s yours,’ and he continued on his way.

I looked deep into San Geraldo’s eyes. I spoke slowly. I enunciated precisely. I explained, “He didn’t say, ‘Mandarin Tang.’ He said, ‘Real men drink Tang.'”

Interestingly — to me at least — I had no idea Tang came in “Mandarin Orange” flavor until I looked it up just now. Additionally interesting — to me at least — is the fact that San Geraldo didn’t know that either.

Another thing I learned while “researching” this post: There’s a restaurant in Pennsylvania named Mandarin Tang III, which indicates to me that there were, or are, Mandarin Tangs I and II. But I’ve been told they just call them all Tang.

My brain hurts…

Author: Moving with Mitchell

From Brooklyn, New York; to North Massapequa; back to Brooklyn; Brockport, New York; back to Brooklyn... To Boston, Massachusetts, where I met Jerry... To Marina del Rey, California; Washington, DC; New Haven and Guilford, Connecticut; San Diego, San Francisco, Palm Springs, and Santa Barbara, California; Las Vegas, Nevada; Irvine, California; Sevilla, Spain. And Fuengirola, Málaga..

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