Mexico. Spain. Believe it or not, they're different countries.

Let me tell you, it’s good to be back, folks. As much as I enjoyed my little hiatus, I was really starting to miss my humble blog. So, for my first entry back, I would like to share an experience with you all. It’s something that happened to me recently.

I was an hour into my Friday shift at Hollywood Video. I was in a foul mood already, having just been forced to explain to an older woman four times that she needed to watch the second disc of “24” for the third disc to make sense. Naturally, I was a little frustrated. I was not in the mood to deal with idiot customers. Unfortunately, it was not my night.

I was manning the front till, checking out movies to customers and sending them on their merry ways. A middle-aged guy in a baseball cap set his movies down – I don’t recall what they were – and I commenced with the usual pleasantries.

“Hey there,” I said. “How’s it going?”

“Good. Yourself?” He seemed like a nice enough guy.

“Not too bad.”

“Hey, did you see that ‘Pan’s Labyrinth’ movie?” he asked. I’m used to questions like this. People request my opinion on films all the time. So, I answered honestly.

“Yeah, I absolutely loved it,” I said. “What did you think of it?”

“Oh, I hated it!” he exclaimed, his voice dripping with a disgust typically reserved for walking in on someone in the throughs of constipation.

“Really?” See, I can’t really imagine anyone disliking “Pan’s Labyrinth,” seeing as how it was beautiful film.

“Yeah. First of all, I didn’t know it was going to be in Mexican.”

“Spanish.”

“Whatever, same difference.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Mexican isn’t a language.”

He waved the statement aside. “Anyway, it took place in Mexico.”

“No, it took place in Spain. During the Spanish Civil War.”

“Whatever, I hated it. Plus, I took my kids to see it! I didn’t know it was going to be so violent.”

“But it was rated R.”

“I know, but it looked kinda like ‘The Chronicles of the Narnia.’”

I was gripping the side of the counter, white-knuckled. It was taking all the patience I had not to leap over the counter and throttle the guy. I finished the transaction quickly and sent the guy on his way, my mind racing with questions.

Why was that guy such an idiot? Did he really think Mexican was a language? Is he aware that Spain and Mexico exist on separate continents, with a massive ocean between them? Am I on one of those candid camera shows?

The point is: Mexican isn’t a language. And “Pan’s Labyrinth” was a brilliant movie.