He Who Shall Not Be Named

Throughout our trip here in Croatia, the politics in America has come up in conversation, as it does, because it’s a shitshow. Trump is on the brain, albeit way in the back, behind the good food and friendly people, beautiful light and managing of umbrellas.

Tonight I chatted online with an AT&T representative about my data usage while I’ve been traveling. The conversation was so funny it will likely be a post for another time.

Meanwhile, Libby is sitting next to me researching events or local concerts or performances to attend at our next destination of Split. I’m chatting online with AT&T so I’m a bit distracted when Libby asks “Guess who’s coming to Quasimoto?”

“Who?”

“I can’t say his name”

“Oh,” I say, distracted. Since I’m focused on my computer I think to myself that she’s looking at something else like Facebook and is reacting to news from Florida, so I guess, “Oh! Trump?” Like many of us, Libby is really distraught about the state of our country, and it didn’t faze me that she just doesn’t want to hear his name out loud.

“No” Libby says “I mean I literally can’t say his name!”

She points at her screen and I burst out laughing because she’s referring to a Croat named Andrej Nikolaidis who’s coming to the Split bar called the Quasimoto.