Musings Of A Brit In The United States
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Musings Of A Brit In The United States

Don't ask me if I've met the Queen

Musings Of A Brit In The United States

"So are you like actually from England? Or just sound like you do?"

"You must know Harry then! Y'know, the guy I met at a pub last year and added on Facebook"

"Do you all wear funny hats over there?"

"Why aren't you drinking tea right now?"

"Have you met the queen before?"

Yes. That's redundant. No, I don't know who Harry is. Some policeman do. I'm more inclined to hot chocolate myself. No, I have not met the queen - have you met President Obama? Didn't think so.

I have had the opportunity to bear witness to all of these excellent questions in my eight years in the United States. Unfortunately, none were in jest, though sometimes I wish they had been. Once people get over the initial shock of an Englishman living in the backyard of Jefferson Davis the follow-up question is always, "Why? Why leave the Royal family, Bangers and Mash, Wimbledon, and Earl Grey Tea for the Kardashians, Beef Jerky, Nascar, and Moonshine?"

Well, it wasn't exactly my decision but I've come to love and appreciate many of the eccentricities Americans hold dear to their hearts. I can now watch an entire game of American Football and only complain about the number of commercials three times (four if it goes into overtime because apparently there can never be a tie in this country). I've learned that Slim Jims are meant to taste like the plastic they're wrapped in and be just as tough to chew. I've also come to understand the desire Americans have to shout their opinions, no matter how contentious, as loud as possible and still defend the right of their "mortal enemy" to shout just as loud right back at them.

Of course, there are things that still cause me to do a double-take. The incorrect usage of one's eating utensils still baffles me: fork in the left hand and knife in the right with both index fingers extended down to apply pressure. The obliviousness of some people to world geography still astounds me - I had a kid in my 6th-grade history class think Spain was in South America.

In the end, though I'm glad I have been able to experience different cultures during my childhood and early adulthood. It's let me, sometimes forced me, to partake in activities I thought I'd never be able to. While I still feel like a foreigner at times (even though my American passport says otherwise) I've made friends on two continents that I know I can count on for the rest of my life.

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This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.
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