So, after having transported two hundred pounds of luggage from
London to Stratford-upon-Avon, we are here in the local Holiday Inn,
watching The Shawshank Redemption on British TV. No editing, all the
foul language, and every bit of nudity that movies and real life have to
offer. All the things that the United States feel necessary to edit
out of our media. It's around this time that I begin to think of all
the cultural differences between me and my chosen destination for my
continued education.
I mean, what the hell is a "rocket" and how is it possible to eat
it? Cos' in every restaurant we've been to a "rocket" has been on the
menu, I just haven't had the courage to try one. Rockets and Jacket
Potatoes.
On the television, it's bad lighting, horrible set dressing,
costumes straight out of an INXS music video, and no make-up. As an
American, I prefer my celebrities well-lit, well-costumed, well-covered,
living either on a mythical set crafted by Hollywood's finest set
designers or one of those lavish accommodations that no real person
actually lives in, and I'll take them bat-shit crazy with a touch of
talent, if you please. I'll take the newscasters who are sensationalist
freaks, rather than the practical, well-informed, worldly,
unfortunately monotone, unattractive and tragically dressed
intellectuals that are all over the BBC and British TV.
We are staying in a Holiday Inn, the cheapest hotel in town. In a
town and country where health food consists of at least ten proteins.
After every meal we need at least a three hour nap.
A soda
that costs 1 pound, 50 pence actually costs $2.43 US. All that for a
500mL bottle of Coca-Cola. Which is only a 17.5 oz. bottle compared to
our 20 oz. bottles or even 2 liter bottles, which in Connecticut
sometimes cost under a dollar.
I haven't yet begun to study Shakespeare. I'm am resigned to
studying the people and culture of the place I have chosen as my home.
For now.
There is not much else to comment on except this... These people
are friendly. They're not assholes. A fellow in a bar a couple nights
ago said that he had gotten into an accident and broken his collarbone.
His wife, an American friend of mine, asked him if he had gotten the
other driver's information (his name, his insurance, etc.) and he had
replied, "No." Which of course, made his wife freak out immediately...
something about a lawsuit and the cost of health insurance. To which he
replied that there would be no hospital bills, and that a lawsuit would
end up costing more than it was worth for both parties involved.
It was at this point that his wife clammed up. Paying for health
care had become so ingrained, and lawsuits so common that this answer
took her completely by surprise. Then the husband said to his wife,
"Why would I want to sue him anyway? It was an accident. He's probably
just like me, a working bloke who just happened to open the door to his
car as my bike passed. He wasn't trying to hurt me."
This thought hit me hard. The man sitting right in front of me
wasn't bragging. He wasn't trying to provide an example of how
good-hearted he could be. He wasn't being the sanctimonious preacher
showing me examples of truly generous people. He was being himself, and
just contributing to the conversation regarding how Obama has changed
the American healthcare system.
These people aren't assholes. Well, maybe the soccer hooligans are and maybe I found the one and only Brit
who isn't. I don't know yet. I do know, however, that the majority of
Americans would've freaked out, reported the guy to the police, sued him
for everything he was worth, and felt like a victim all the way to the
bank.
Welcome to England.
"Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good
we oft might win, by fearing to attempt" -- Measure for Measure, Act I,
Sc. IV
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