All that comes with it

As you know Kerry and I have flown over from England to spend a few days with Geg and Deb. Most people from the UK have a pretty good idea of what goes on in the USA as American TV and films is extremely prevalent on our screens. In addition both Kerry and I have been in the States before so we knew what to expect. There still have been a few culture shocks for us however.

In order to get into a shop, restaurant, hotel, or public building in the US you have to pull the door open, in the UK you would push it. I understand the rational for this, it makes things a lot safer in case of a fire. What it doesn’t do however is make things a lot safer for the visiting Englishman who subconsciously assumes the door will open. I have spent the last four days walking into doors.

While I love the service culture in America, sometimes it becomes a little overwhelming. In England when you order a meal you basically get what you are given. There is none of this “How would you like your eggs sir?” or “Can I refill your coffee sir?” or “Sir would you like to do that in the restroom instead?”. No, you just get whatever egg the cook feels like making and a coffee which, once it’s gone, will only be refilled if you fork out more cash.

Sometimes the options can get a little overwhelming. It had taken Kerry and I three days to work out the secret code for how we like our eggs is “over hard” and we were more than a little proud of our new cultural knowledge. We entered the diner full of pomp and swagger, confident that this time we wouldn’t be reduced to bumbling Hugh Grant like figures when asked the dreaded egg question. And all went swimmingly, Kerry was first up and performed admirably under the pressure. But the real masterstroke came when I suddenly changed my mind and decided to have scrambled instead. Such improvisational dexterity can only be the hallmark of a real pro.

And then they asked us how we wanted our toast and all our confidence was shattered in one cruel blow. Toast for the sake of god ! What on earth are the codes for that? We tried some guesses - “Crunchy over crust”, “Butter side down”, and “With the burnt bits scraped off please ” but the waiter just looked at us blankly. Our only consolation is that like 65% of the rest of the US he probably thought our accent was Australian so we didn’t bring our nation into disrepute.

We have also been asked for proof of our age nearly every time we have been into a bar. The first time it happened we assumed it was an attempt to make us feel unwelcome, as the request came from an incredibly surly bartender. However we were subsequently asked by a number of bouncers and barmen who appeared much more friendly and willing to help . Back home you are unlikely to be asked for identification once you reach about seventeen, so it was all rather exciting and flattering. Every time it happened to us we told ourselves that it wasn’t a cultural thing, it was just we looked incredibly vibrant youthful.

But we’ve had a really great time so far, especially with Greg and Deb. They have been most genial hosts, and have bent over backwards for us. The kids keeps us entertained too, and are fantastically well behaved despite what their parents say. We’ve been looking forward to this trip for a long time, and now that we are at the Lee family’s house and they have made us so welcome, we are incredibly grateful that we’ve made such cool friends, no matter how strangely we met.