Hello USA, Seth here writing to you from here in a splendid London internet cafe. I’m going to be spending a few weeks over here in Great Britain this summer, and I thought it would be nice to relay some of my accounts of the little island to you. Consider this a first installment…
The international flight from Chicago to London was most pleasurable. I chatted with folks on the plane, ate steak, and then tried to induce sleep with four airplane-sized bottles of Dewars. I was actually able to get an instant hangover, which along with the jetlag I would head into, would be the nice introduction to my trip. UK is OK with me!
When I got to the airport I immediately went to customs to let the country know I was coming through. The official didn’t give me much hassle as I look rather non-threatening…okay, small, and in a matter of moments I was standing by baggage claim, a stamped passport in my hand and a gleam in my eye.
I picked up my bags and walked straight to an American Express office where they took my $500 and gave me back the British equivalent, £3 and 20 pence; thank God the exchange rate was good that day!
Walking through the terminal I was instantly met by the glares of hundreds of Londoners who looked at me saying, “Remember? You left our country, why are you coming back? Shouldn’t you be protesting? Did you forget a gilded cross?” I ignored the glares and jeers; although I forgot to bring a pair of black pants, I did not forget my dignity, no matter how many times they tried to get me to stow it away in the overhead compartment.
My first experience of London, was the bookshop in Heathrow airport (yes, not a bookstore, a bookshop, or more properly, bookeshoppe.) I was interested to note that they do not have a “mystery” section, it is called the “crime” section. This fits with the British mentality that you are guilty before proven innocent; before you know what you’ve done, you’ve done it wrong. Across from the crime section was an overweight, elderly gent flipping through a porno mag as if it were Time. I looked at him oddly and he shot me back a look as if to say, “Blimey, look at that bloke, what is he looking at maps? the newspaper?, what a heathen.” The English seem amazingly comfortable with nudity and sexuality. Magazines will be littered with random tits, for no reason whatsoever. American Maxim is a bit racy, but the UK version will have big headlines promising photo lay-outs of things like “Foam Orgy” and “Gratuitous Knockers.” You could be looking at Newsweek and just because they want to, the British will just stick a tit on Janet Reno’s forehead or Yassar Arafat’s turban. Also, many American celebrities get reprieve from the harsh British tabloids, mainly due to the fact that all of their energy is acutely focused on Elizabeth Hurley and the Queen. Stories about Hurley will range from photo exposes to supposed diary entries, while stories on the Queen usually subsist of nothing more than a few pictures of her looking like a constipated, catatonic troll. Apparently, she forgot how to talk right around the time she learned to wave.
Out of the bookshop I walked by an airport restaurant where I glared at the menu, to see what all the rave was about. I was pleased to see that I knew what everything was, including all of the different categories. I was quickly ripped from my culinary comfort zones as I moved past the “wraps” section to the sections titled “baps” and “jackets”; apparently English eateries devote whole sections to bad Halle Berry movies and rain attire.
In the airport, the English like to identify themselves, so that other Europeans won’t confuse them for Americans, which would be just about as insulting as asking a barkeep why your Guiness is warm as piss. To do this they like wearing very English shirts, ones that yield giant Union Jacks or phrases like “My tallywacker’s bigger than your dolly dander” and “Don’t let me smile, I’m a Brit!” Yeah, Europe may have national healthcare plans, but apparently England forgot to include dental.
Perhaps the bad teeth is one reason why the English don’t seem to love smiling in public. Here’s how one airport interaction went down:
Seth: Hello.
Random Brit: [no response]
Seth: [smile]
Random Brit: [frown]
Once in the city, the first lesson to learn is that EVERYONE smokes, from babies to asthmatic dogs. This in conjunction with the lack of auto emissions standards actually leads to the production of blacks specks in your mucus when you blow your nose. BLACK SPECKS!!! Who said the plague died out (and on that note, they never caught Jack the Ripper, did they?)
There are a number of ways to get around London. The easiest is to just take a cab, which are attractive black cars that look like they came from a Sherlock Holmes story. As soon as you ask, in your best Midwestern affect to go to Lie-Chester square, you will promptly find yourself making a detour through Scotland to the tune of a £475 fare. The bus is also a nice way to travel if you can figure out the schedule. The English have nice big, red double-decker buses. Thankfully, when the British invented the double-decker bus, they also forgot to invent the tunnel and the overpass; right-o! Of course the best way to get around is the Underground, or the Tube (called that, because it looks like a tube). Although the Tube is pretty easy to navigate and only moderately, horribly over-priced, it is also 400 degrees centigrade. English weather is conveniently controlled to be as uncomfortable as possible. It will be 50 below on the street and then you walk underground and your trainers (sneakers) burst into flames. I think this is because if it was warm outside, the English’s faces might risk slipping into a smile, so they channel all the hot air Underground and into Parliament to ensure that there are no public signs of emotion.
No discussion of London weather would be complete without a mention of rain. Of course everyone has heard it rains, but it even rained on the plane coming over. In London it will rain any time; when it’s cloudy, when it’s sunny, in fact when it’s NOT raining, it will probably also really be raining. This fits the English model of doing things backwards, like driving and pricing things.
Okay, that’s it for now. Stay tuned for more notes from across the Pond!