Upgrade me, I'm Irish

My mother and I had been desperately trying to change my flight to Paraguay next week since my ticket only allowed for a 45 min window of time between connections in Miami, and with the track record of NY airports that is just begging for a flight to be missed. I called American Airlines and spoke to an older gentleman who told me there was nothing he can do and the airline had denied my request for a change. I decided to channel my fiery Hispanic mother and give him my full wrath in response to this news. Apparently, I should have taken on an Irish accent instead.

As soon as he read my last name, his entire demeanor changed. "What are a bunch of Irish people doing going down to South America?" he said. (I chose to ignore any racism he may have been implying and go with it). I explained to him that I was half Hispanic and then answered all of his questions about where in Ireland my ancestors were from, where my relatives live now  — "I'm a Boston Irishman, you?" "My family is proudly Chicago Irish sir" — while he told me all about his ancestors growing up 20 minutes away from mine, how his son now is the assistant superintendent in a Long Island, has four kids with his wife, and his school placed fourth in his district. He then proceeded to change my flight, upgrade me to Business class for the long trip down and in turn I assured him I would tell my father how "Only an Irishman could fix my problem."

I hope my Paraguayan relatives will forgive me for fully abandoning them in order to make sure I get to them in time. And hey, the Irish are one of the only other cultures who have as bad of a temper and as much of a drinking problem as the Latins — is it a wonder I am the way I am?