Because I find myself in just a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and thinking I’m going to be late.

Late to work, late to the airport, late for a date, late to the doctor doesn’t count, the doctor is never on time.

For a Colombian I broke the mold, I have to be on time all the time, but Colombians have no sense of time, if you show up to a party five minutes before the advertised time you will be escorted to the living room, offered a glass of water and asked to sit and wait until the host takes a shower, puts make up and eat a snack. Most likely the husband will show up fifteen minutes later and ask if a salesman is sitting in the living room waiting to be greeted.

If you show up 30 minutes late, you will be the first guess and will be expected to help with the music and your wife to give tips to the host on her dress arrangement.

Now, if you are the guess that shows up 45 minutes to an hour late, you are on time, you will be greeted with a warm welcome and a glass of wine.

I have lived in the United States more years that I can count, in fact, must of my life, but the cultural differences still there, perhaps because I had to hear my mother all my life reminding me to dress properly for each occasion. I always wondered why we can recognized Americans everywhere we go, they tell you to blend with the locals when you travel so you don’t become a crime statistic. It should be very easy in the western hemisphere, but you can still pin point the Americans; sneakers, shorts, t-shirts, a baseball cap, chewing gum and always asking questions in English. Now, there are some who do make an effort to blend but fail some common No, Nos…. like talking while chewing food, or worst, blowing your nose while eating at a table.

They don’t dress down or dress up, may be I envy that, it’s the culture of laissez-faire, whatever I have-on I’m wearing. Well OK, I’m heading out the door with this filthy shorts and the same shirt I wore yesterday, I’m just going to take my socks off and put a pair of flip flops, my feet will smell better than the three-day socks.

Here is a picture of my friend Gerald, The tourist is the guy in the background who failed to blend with the crowd.