They will have more than 200 Facebook friends if it kills them

Since February, all I've been told about the British is that they like tea and warm beer (perhaps not together) and that they are "more reserved" than Americans. And that's always the word they use: "reserved," as if the British are smirking inside at loud, shameless, wide-eyed Americans but keep a polite, articulate veneer. And I suppose, collectively, that's all a country can really do when faced with the collective population and accompanying governing body of the United States, but so far this hasn't proved true on an individual basis. The British students began moving in this weekend, and it wasn't long before someone knocked on my door. When I opened it, at least ten 18-year-old boys stood before me.

"Hi," I said. One of the boys began knocking on more doors in my hallway.

"Hi," said their ringleader. I'm guessing the expression on my face invited further explanation as to why a gaggle of British "freshers" were suddenly crowded around my door, though I could guess. "We're just trying to meet all the people in our building. I'm Will." The other boys introduced themselves too, though I can't recall any of their names or faces and I also made up the name Will. A couple of boys asked my major, and then the group moved on to my neighbors, who were just responding to the summons.

Later that night, a frantic knock on my door, followed shortly by shouts, caused me to make use of my peephole. A single blonde boy was peering down the hallway. I opened the door and when he saw me, he introduced himself and invited me to a giant, impromptu, dorm-wide party at a local pub. Not being one for large parties, smoky pubs, or drunk people, I lamented my unfortunate need to draft a schedule for the start of term the next day, but he refused to take no for an answer so I said "Maybe," which he promptly took to mean "Absolutely, and I might make out with you later too," so he left, shouting to another boy to "Go, go, go! The stairs are that way! Keep knocking on doors!"

Even later that night, I was about to go to bed when someone ELSE knocked on my door. Before I could bother myself to get up, I heard knocks on several other doors and someone saying, with a slurred but genuine British accent, "Party in the kitchen on the first floor!" I'll leave you to guess whether I opened it this time. I can appreciate friendliness but I gotta go to bed!

I can conclude, then, that:

1) British students are proving themselves to be less "reserved" than I thought; nobody at my American university traveled in packs in an effort to meet every single person in the dorm, (though I can't vouch for the all-freshman dorms which are a breed unto themselves).

and

2) I'm a crotchety old lady at the ripe old age of 21. But I already knew this.

posted by limeywannabe @ 7:40 PM