Yesterday, I served four Texans and two Russians at my tasting bar. Sounds like the beginning to a joke, doesn't it? Well it kinda is. The Russians were struggling to understand but they seemed to know English, at least a little, so I tried to make them feel more comfortable by asking about their trip to the islands. "How long was your flight from Moscow to Hawaii?" I asked. "October twenty-third," he said. Now, this, I thought, was so damn funny that it was all I could do not to burst with laughter. But I didn't want the guy to feel any more uncomfortable than he already did, so I bit my tongue. Literally. Then the lady standing next to him, a Texan, turned to the man and said, "You should drink more. It will make your English better." She smiled and raised her glass toward him, as if to toast. He raised his back and said, "No good English," and she looked back at me and said, "I'm lost on him. Totally lost."