Aluredian
42
M
y mother (who is a
wonderful woman
with many virtues,
but has once again
forgotten to send me
my debit card)
complained throughout my recent trip about my
constant habit of comparing everything in the
USA to that in the UK. Now I could wax lyrical
all day about the many observations that I
made. The surprising lack of fat people. The
annoying man who once met Prince Andrew,
and suggested that England should become
America's 52nd state; the wonders of buying
food in bulk, no, en masse. But there was one
larger, underlying theme in the States, and that
is that, compared to Britain, those in the USA
are a lot more friendly. People will go out of
their way to help you. (Except for New Yorkers.)
It was quite astonishing, that when I made a
trifling complaint about the temperature of my
food in a Chinese restaurant, it was instantly
whisked away and replaced by a brand new
portion, an extra plate of prawn crackers,
compliments of the chef. Now if you were in
England (or New York), you would have been
told to eat what you were given, and to be
thankful for it. Also, once you had made the
complaint, the staff would glare at you in surly
rebellion. In Washington DC, as I was leaving
the restaurant, the manager himself caught me
and apologised to me profusely. It was quite
bizarre, and I stood their open-mouthed as the
poor man grovelled at my feet.
So, friendliness is an amazing thing, but after a
while it began to get a little wearying, even
though I am half American.
But I was born and raised in Britain, so I am
only counted as an American citizen on paper,
and was therefore caught unawares by shop
attendants lurking beside the doors. They
would smarm up to you, and, with a sickly
smile, say "Hi, how are you today?". If you
answered, "Fine thank you", this was wrongly
taken as an invitation to further talk.
In small doses, this was flattering, but to be
honest, I came to spend money, not waste my
time having a philosophical discussion. If I
wanted a philosophical discussion, I would call
the Dalai Lama.
This was my biggest peeve about the US; that
if you were ambling around a shopping mall,
peering into stores, browsing away, then you
will inevitably be sprung upon by some grinning
shop worker. After a while, I was fighting a
rising urge to rabbit-punch any attendant who
confronted me with a grin resembling one in
the advanced stages of tetanus. It got to the
point where I would actively avoid any shop
with loitering stewards inside.
I will give you a sample dialogue of the events
that unfolded as I strolled into a Coach shop to
look for a new wallet:
An attendant sidled over with an ingratiating
smile on her face; "Hi, how are you today?"
"Fine thanks, just browsing" (the usual
response given to shake off annoying
attendants. It didn't work.)
"So what brought you into Coach today?"
"Uh ... my feet?" (The woman does not look
remotely nonplussed by my response.)
"Is there anything in our display that you find
particularly desirable?" (I am beginning to get
irritated.)
"No thank you, I'm just having a look for a new
wallet?"
"Well would you like any help with that?"
"No thank you."
"Is there anything else I can help you with?"
You could give me a handgun, or maybe a
length of lead pipe. "No thank you."
She looked at me as if I had some sort of
horrific deformity, before scuttling off behind
the counter. I forged on into the shop, before I
was distracted by a wheedling voice.
"Hi how are you today?"
You get the picture.
So, I have written this as a helpful guide to any
who wish to visit the land of the free. I have
In an article
for Pelican
Brief, dualpassport
holder Tristan
Dennis, 62,
explores his
reactions
while touring
the USA