American kindness and my first american

I said I'd mention the fantastic things Americans had done for me. And then I'll tell you about the first time I met an American.

At the end of 2006 I was knocked off my motorbike when a car changed lanes right into me. The driver sped off without stopping. I was left very badly injured. I couldn't work. Self-employed means no work = no money. Things looked grim. American friends decided to help. They set up a website. They organised an appeal. Dozens of them offered things - autographed books, photos, characters in a novel - for auction. And scores more of Americans bid, bought or donated. Some sent gifts directly to me. All because they'd met me or chatted to me online & liked me. Or they'd not met me but liked my writing. E & Tamara sent stuff. In the end I had enough to pay my living expenses for almost 3 months. I was overwhelmed. I love Americans.

My first American. A bloke I met when I was living rough - I was about 15 - he was the worst stereotype of an American tourist you could imagine. Loud, rude, obnoxious, big hat - and fairly idiotic with it. He coloured my views of American tourists for years. (Bit like folks in Torremolinos or Thalaraki feel about Brits - they only see the worst of us). It wasn't until I started meeting more Americans on my travels around the world that I discovered Americans were also friendly, intelligent, fun and downright nice as well as idiotic.

Anyway - this bloke stopped me in Trafalgar Square after he'd heard me begging and told me he'd never met a real Cockney before and he wanted a picture of a real cockney in real cockney land. I was pretty rude and told him there was no such place, it wasn't like bloody Disneyland and anyway even though I was a real cockney, Trafalgar Square - whilst being in London - was in the City of Westminster not the City of London and so wasn't cockney country (just think of it this way - Pasadena and Glendale are part of LA - or they would be here in the UK - but they're not Watts). He ignored the rudeness - I figured at the time it was because Yanks were rude so it felt natural to him. He told me he'd give me five bucks to pose by the lions. I had no idea what five bucks was but he held out five pounds. Five pounds!!

I'd have sung the entire Dick van Dyke part from Mary Poppins for five pounds!! He obviously had no idea how much it was. Put in context - at 16 if I'd been working I would have expected about six to seven pounds for a whole week's wages. I posed for the picture. I talked rhyming slang for him. I put a neckerchief and a flat cap on (borrowed from a bloke selling pigeon food) and posed for a couple more pictures. I spared him the singing. He'll never know what a lucky escape that was.

Then he asked how to get to the Tower of London - was it close. I explained that London was a bloody big city and it was about four miles away. He said it was too far so I told him how to get there on the tube (subway train). For that five pounds I'd have been willing to take him there myself if he'd wanted to walk. He pulled out a couple of tickets he'd been give by a friend - they were for the Ceremony of the Keys. I was gobsmacked. How the hell had he got tickets for that!! Never mind, he was asking another question. He asked if the show would still happen because it was raining. I wanted to bang my head on a wall. I carefully explained to him that the Ceremony of the Keys had been carried out every night for over six hundred years.

I don't think he grasped the concept of six hundred years. It was a time that happened before there was a USA. He said "yeah but it's raining". I got ruder. I told him again, this time with the addition of some swear words, that the bloody ceremony been happening on every night - uninterrupted even by the Blitz - for over six hundred years - possibly even as long as nine hundred - and a little rain wouldn't stop it. I don't think he understood Blitz. I told him again that if Hitler's bloody bombers hadn't stopped it and had only made it late once - once - and that only because the Chief Warder had been blown off his feet by a bomb exploding nearby, then rain wasn't going to make a bleeding bit of difference.

I really should have been nicer to him - he'd just given me enough for a bed in a shelter and meals for a week. My only excuse is that I was an angry, hurt, fifteen-year-old kid. He went off satisfied that he wouldn't miss it. I still don't think he understood though. I think he thought it was some sort of parade put on for tourists like a Disney show, I don't think he got that it's simply a military tradition - like the Changing of the Guard or Beating the Retreat - that tourists have latched on to because they're quaint or colourful. I hope he wasn't too disappointed with the show - it only last about 20 minutes all told...

Ze

BtVS

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• Longing for Shadows by kassandra luem (CM Femslash).
  
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  Original
  
• Part 6 of Get Away with Martha Hall by Artemis Callaghan (Royal Academy of Bards).
  
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• Part 1 of Goddess' Dream, Bard's Nightmare by TraceGem (Royal Academy of Bards).