After a nice week in South Carolina on vacation (the highlights of which were seeing dolphins swimming in the river and nearly having my head taken off by a hawk that flew RIGHT....OVER...ME...), I hopped a plane to the good ol' UK for a bit of teaching.
Arriving last night I found myself in a typically yank-vs-Brit exchange. Leaving Paddington station there are two exits for the taxi line, and they're about 100 feet apart from each other. They empty on the same queue. They're probably supposed to be manned by a guy who prevents pandaemonium, but he's obviously been sacked, and so two lines sort of merged, face on to each other. I faced a couple, a brit woman and an american guy, and the man said "so, what happens here?" "We just sort of run into each other and fight for a cab" I said, jokingly. The woman noticed that at this point a line extended off behind me. "There's a line now" she said, although she was obviously there BEFORE everyone on the line.
"Yes," added another Brit behind me, "the back of the line is there" and pointed toward the line, now twenty people long.
I pointed out that I was already on that line, being the first person there (man number two standing BEHIND me and all) and then he said "no you aren't". A tad dumbfounded and more than a bit jet lagged, I said "yes, I am, I came out that door."
"No, you didn't" he replied.
Okay, now at this point if I were not American I'd have done what the British woman made the couple do, demur and get on the end of the now very-very long cab line. And had I come out the other door (and mind you, there's nothing at all wrong with that other door, it's ALSO the taxi door and in fact comes out slightly farther ahead of the door I came out, and the people behind me were on) I might have given up and gone to the end of the line as well. But the reason this bloke didn't know I came out the door ahead of him was because I came out so much ahead of him he didn't see me.
I pointed out that I did in fact come out the door, and described to him where the door is located. "You're right, I'm wrong" without any trace of believing that. Which is when I got in a cab and left. It seemed a typical example of the blowhard American facing off with the more proper Brit. It must have taken him a lot to have gotten so cheeky with me.
By the way, are you enjoying my British-isms?
Today walking around the city I headed to Buckingham palace just in time to find the house band squaring off with the Queen's mounted band in a sort of song-off. And what Empire-Centric song were they oom-paa-paa-ing in the courtyard of the palace?
Hey big spender.
Really, I'm not kidding. This place sort of confounds me.
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