Being an American in London is a little bit like being a Jew in Virginia. You’re in the minority- and it just makes everything you do that. much. awesomer.
Bryan and I looked at each other this weekend and said, what can we do to be as loser-touristy as possible? The answer came in a Saturday morning spent at Buckingham Palace. Her Majesty is “on holiday” or something, so for a few months a year a part of the palace is open to visitors. And they set the ballroom up for a state dinner so the have-nots can see how the haves eat. It looks sort of like a wedding on steroids. But when I even looked at my camera, 17 guards rushed me. So no inside photos.
Walking home we were stopped in the street and asked whether we “know any U.S. citizens.” Funny you should ask…
Then Sunday we headed for a day trip to Greenwich- famous for all things in British maritime history, but also for Greenwich Mean Time, the Prime Meridian… the place where time begins. Yes, I straddled two hemispheres. And it was cool. Almost as cool as when I stood at The Four Corners (where New Mexico, Arizona, Utah and Colorado touch) or boated down the Bosphorus in Istanbul- casually floating where two continents touch. I mean, I could go on. Don’t get me started on my days in the North Pole.
The pinnacle of the weekend, the moment when Bryan was able to exhale and start acting human again– well, that took place during the opening day game of the Jets with Brett Favre as the quarterback. And let me tell you: Sports Cafe in London is an oasis of 1,000 Americans drinking beers, hugging, eating wings, letting football ooze and seep into our blood and mostly just being so momentarily relieved that everyone around us is outgoing and friendly and speaks with the properly flattened form of English. It was a little bit like Christmas. And every time the Jets scored a touchdown, we had to do a shot. That plus beers. On a Sunday night. I won’t tell you my weight, but I’ll tell you I’m a champ.
J – E – T – S JETS JETS JETS!!!!!!!