I’ve never categorized myself as “American”. I just am… Minnesotan… or from Upsala… or Bemidji. I’m a college student. I’m an English major… I’m.. well you get the picture. I’ve never really had the urge to remind other Americans that I’m American.
Last night I went out for my first legal drink. I had to wait till St. Patty’s Day! There’s this really awesome pub down the road called The Eagle and Child. It’s a pub where the authors Lewis and Tolkien used to be regulars and part of the literary group called the Inklings. It was probably the coolest experience ever having a Guiness where they used to on St. Patty’s. AHHH. Too much awesome.
Anyway, afterwards we went to another pub called the Lion and Flag. It was a much bigger bar filled to the top with people all sitting around little tables sitting and talking. They all had pints of beer sitting in their overcoats or blazers laughing and talking. It was so different than something that would be seen in a US pub on St. Patrick’s Day. The US has tacky green shamrocks taped all around, green beer, and people going just nuts. In the UK it was like they didn’t care about getting trashed for the holiday. That is my experience with all of the local pubs. I feel like pubs here are more social gathering places for people to have a good time talking for hours with friends. The point isn’t to get drunk, take selfies, or make others think you’re having the time of your life. It’s much more of a personal, relaxed setting. The pub was loud- but not with blaring music or people drunkenly screaming. It was full of deep conversations, with real bonds being established among people.
I ran into a woman in the bathroom. She said something about the soap dispenser not working and I replied with something sympathetic. She immediately was like,
“Oh! You’re American!”
It was such a strange statement. I’m American. I’m not from here. I’m different. Huh. Never felt like that before. She wasn’t trying to be rude… it was a true statement. We ended up talking for a little bit in the bathroom and she knew where Minnesota was. She was a little tipsy and ended up asking for some boy advice. I gave her my best and she seemed pretty happy with my encouragement to ask the guy how he felt because “otherwise you’ll never know and always wonder what could have been…” I might have ruined her life… I might have actually gave her good advice. I’m not sure because she certainly didn’t give me any backstory. However, It felt good to have an actual interaction with someone. Her accent was to die for. She said cheers and walked out to her man who I noticed leaning against the wall. He was a bookish looking fellow with round wire rimmed glassea and a green overcoat. She winked as I walked past and I felt warm inside.
I decided to rename my blog because I’ve heard the phrases “cheers” and “love” used so much in the past few days. It seems like a much more appropriate name than the cliché “Adventure is out there”.