Wacky people are a universal standard

The other day a friend and I were giving directions to a building on campus to a fellow American who had only been here a day. As we were doing so, an old man with stereotypically British teeth lumbered up to us and shouted in the Cockneyest of accents, "D'ye need 'elp? I'm a native 'ere." Then he noticed we were Americans and asked us how we liked it here, but didn't allow us to answer before observing that Americans tend to think that Great Britain is some sort of Dickensian black hole of industrial progress, perpetually stuck in the 19th century. We had still not gotten more than a nod into the conversation before he went on to tell us that he was a songwriter and he writes sea shanties. It was while he was singing one of his shanties for us that I realized he was standing unnaturally close to my face, and was also the type of person to whom you might have said "say it, don't spray it" in grade school. He wasn't much help with directions but he was off as suddenly as he had appeared, leaving us to mop the spit off of our faces in bewilderment.

This brings my tally of places I could have contracted a disease to four: two internet cafes, the Tube in general, and getting spit on. Though if I can ride the T back home without catching anything, I've probably built up sufficient immunity.

posted by limeywannabe @ 11:31 AM