I never leave Medford. It's a fact and I've learned to deal with it. However, this Thanksgiving, my family branched out, big time. Usually this sentence would be followed by a joke like, "We went south of Boston" or "The Cape counts as abroad, right?" But this year, the McKeown clan spent Thanksgiving visiting my oldest brother in London, leaving New England for the original one.
Before I delve into my adventures in merry ol' England, I need to first let the world know how much I hate flying. Is there a worse feeling than walking through the luxurious first-class section of an airplane to the cramped and somewhat stinky confines of coach? I was seconds away from a pulling a Zidane and head-butting my way through first class after I got a smug look from an obviously snooty middle-aged man as he took off his scarf, poured a cup of tea and sat in his comfy and spacious reclining chair/bed, offering me a look that said, "I love being me and not you."
Also, if you're going to fly overseas, remember to shave, because I had a beard and got treated more like an international super-spy than a townie who got his passport picture taken at a local CVS.
The trip started off with a great omen when my family and I boarded a train to my brother's neighborhood and one of those female computer voices announced at each stop, "This train's last stop is Cockfosters; stay on this train for Cockfosters," leading to jokes like "Cockfosters, Australian for genitalia" or "Next stop, Grundle Square." The train was an excellent way to get around the city and allowed me to avoid riding a double-decker bus.
To most people, the novelty of these two-floored buses is a great one and it'd be a crime to go to London without boarding one, but I stayed away, because why would I want to ride in a vehicle that combines my fear of heights with my fear of driving on the wrong side of the road? Crashing is bad enough, but getting whiplash and falling two stories? I'll walk, thanks.
Also, Brits have a serious issue with poor driving. I thought Boston had its fair share of traffic issues, but I honestly think British citizens drive like they're in a video game where hitting an American takes you to a bonus round.
The only real problem I had with the entire visit to London had to do with the food. Now, I'll be the first to admit that I am a picky eater and that when I call Espresso's they associate my phone number with a steak-and-cheese and french fries, but that doesn't change the fact that Great Britain has the culinary skills of Emeril ... if Emeril had no nose, tongue or cooking utensils. I knew this going in, so my genius told me that I needed to be safe and eat at McDonald's or Burger King, because you'd have to be aggressively bad to mess that up.
To my chagrin, the McDonald's gave me more gas than a propane tank and the BK literally gave me food poisoning. Honestly, I know I was in London and couldn't take full advantage of the food that Thanksgiving has to offer, but who gets food poisoning on a day that revolves around gluttony? That'd be like finding out you're allergic to alcohol on St. Patrick's Day.
Speaking of alcohol, England has plenty of it to go around, and for that, I am grateful. There are awesome pubs on every corner and they all pride themselves on good beer, so it's hard for me to stay mad. A bar has awful food? Fine, I'll order a Guinness; that's worth at least two meals. The pubs gave me the chance to inebriate myself just enough to talk to people from Europe.
Now I'm not saying I need to be drunk to talk to people from another country, but it sure helps, especially considering I stuck out as an American and was quite possibly the only person in the whole country wearing a backwards hat.
I was wrong to think that I would be received badly, for almost everyone I talked to was more than nice and welcoming. I thought everyone in Europe disliked Americans. Luckily for me, they just hate Bush ... and oral hygiene. I didn't want to make a joke about how English men and women are rumored to have bad teeth ... but a lot of them do and it's not so cool, and it only gets worse, because I think you can't be a British citizen unless you smoke two packs a day.
All in all, I'd say my visit to London was a huge success. I was able to see all the amazing sights the city had to offer, I met a lot of really interesting Brits who both solidified and changed some of my perceptions of the country, and I got to spend some quality time with my family of townies in a land far different than the Medford we all know and love. Cheers.
Pete McKeown is a senior majoring in English. He can be reached at peter.mckeown@tufts.edu.
