Foot in Mouth Disease
Last Monday I went to a bar where a number of this semester's international students were meeting. It was a 2 for 1 night, so the number was far more than the little bar was designed to accommodate. The beer was the mass produced drivel that is found in too many of the pubs here. The room was smoky and as warm as it was crowded. This was not my scene. I had my two drinks, a Guinness and a sub-par G&T, said goodbye to a few friends that I had made and headed for the door.
As I was saying goodbye to a girl that I had met at the University of Westminster orientation earlier that day, I got caught up in a photo-op and conversation with the group she was sitting with. They turned out to be three girls from Denmark. Well, it wasn't so smoky and they weren't American, so I struck up conversation. They spoke excellent English and we compared cultures, politics and so on. After some chatting, a Brit broke into the conversation. He asked where we were from and the girls replied Denmark. He gestured at me, "and you?" he asked. "Denmark as well," I replied.
He went on to talk mostly to the girls, but I didn't feel much of a need to engage. After all, he had gotten the notion I was Danish and I didn't want to disappoint him. He complemented our accents, mine included. "The Danes have such beautiful accents," he said. Inevitably the topic turned to Americans. He noted that a good number of the international students were American and that he didn't particularly like that fact. "They're very loud," he said. I chimed in enthusiastically, "I know, especially in restaurants and on the tube!" He agreed and proceeded to unknowingly fit his entire right foot inside his rather large mouth. Although I was mostly amused, I did feel a little guilty for being so deceptive. But not guilty enough to stop him.
When I had said that I was Danish initially, the other girls smiled, but did not correct me. However, they did make reference to me as an American throughout the conversation. This Brit did not seem to be listening very well, otherwise he may have at least saved himself a big toe to snack on later.
He did get full eventually and made his way elsewhere not realizing that he had just eaten an American sized portion of foot.
The night proceeded and I stuck around with the real Danes to chat more. Soon we were joined by two French students. I impressed them with my three French phrases. After I made my impression, they seemed determined to expand my vocabulary, so we taught each other tactless pick-up lines. One guy seemed rather serious about his and guaranteed it would work on any French girl. It's a shame that I can't remember it now as I would rather enjoy being laughed at by any French girl.
We ended up staying until the bar began to close. They headed towards their own hall of residence and I took the tube home. Maybe if I am lucky, I will run into that Brit again before I leave.
As I was saying goodbye to a girl that I had met at the University of Westminster orientation earlier that day, I got caught up in a photo-op and conversation with the group she was sitting with. They turned out to be three girls from Denmark. Well, it wasn't so smoky and they weren't American, so I struck up conversation. They spoke excellent English and we compared cultures, politics and so on. After some chatting, a Brit broke into the conversation. He asked where we were from and the girls replied Denmark. He gestured at me, "and you?" he asked. "Denmark as well," I replied.
He went on to talk mostly to the girls, but I didn't feel much of a need to engage. After all, he had gotten the notion I was Danish and I didn't want to disappoint him. He complemented our accents, mine included. "The Danes have such beautiful accents," he said. Inevitably the topic turned to Americans. He noted that a good number of the international students were American and that he didn't particularly like that fact. "They're very loud," he said. I chimed in enthusiastically, "I know, especially in restaurants and on the tube!" He agreed and proceeded to unknowingly fit his entire right foot inside his rather large mouth. Although I was mostly amused, I did feel a little guilty for being so deceptive. But not guilty enough to stop him.
When I had said that I was Danish initially, the other girls smiled, but did not correct me. However, they did make reference to me as an American throughout the conversation. This Brit did not seem to be listening very well, otherwise he may have at least saved himself a big toe to snack on later.
He did get full eventually and made his way elsewhere not realizing that he had just eaten an American sized portion of foot.
The night proceeded and I stuck around with the real Danes to chat more. Soon we were joined by two French students. I impressed them with my three French phrases. After I made my impression, they seemed determined to expand my vocabulary, so we taught each other tactless pick-up lines. One guy seemed rather serious about his and guaranteed it would work on any French girl. It's a shame that I can't remember it now as I would rather enjoy being laughed at by any French girl.
We ended up staying until the bar began to close. They headed towards their own hall of residence and I took the tube home. Maybe if I am lucky, I will run into that Brit again before I leave.
1 Comments:
So you're Danish with good English. That's very funny. Thanks for writing about it.
Love,
dad
By Dad, At January 12, 2007 1:14 PM
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