I was driving from the Lake District down to Stratford Upon Avon, and was a bit lost, I think it was somewhere near Birmingham. I stopped at a petrol station to ask for directions. The cashier understood me, but I had no idea what she was saying to me. I went back to the car, and my wife asked me if I knew where to go now, and I just said, "No."
She was sober, too.
CD
A second experience, also in Ireland:
We stopped at a pub/restaurant and sat down and eventually the waiter came over.
Part of the experience was his appearance: extremely crooked teeth, overbite, fleshy, sweaty face, uncombed hair, one good eye and one Marty Feldman eye, about twice the size of the good eye and half out of its socket, it seemed. If you were looking for an actor to play the village monster, this was your guy.
Regardless of his appearance, very friendly fellow, and he promptly said something that sounded like, "Glach lachen ooter flachen evenin', aye. Warchen aughten drink, yeah?"
MrsT, since her stroke, is very poor at concealing her emotions, so she looked at him like he was Jack The Ripper, then looked at me like...he was Jack The Ripper.
All I got out of the whole exchange was "evening," and "drink," so I assumed he'd wished us a good evening and asked for our drink order, so that's how we answered.
Every time he came back, it was the same thing: "Hach tachen glach order, then?" or "Blachen clach floggen good, yeah?" and I just did my best to work my way through.
I will say this, it was the one time my wife didn't try to custom order something off the menu, because she was too intimidated to ask!