The American Experience 9/08/06

I have turned red. Or at least parts of me have. I was a little remiss yesterday on the beach outside the Double Deuce and the sun took its usual course. It may have been the Double Deuce Stinger that impaired my judgement, but I guess it was at least partly my inexperience with subtropical sunshine factors.
But let me fill you in a little on my recent travels.
I left London Heathrow the morning before the fortunate uncovering of the vicious plot to deprive yet more innocent civilians of their lives. I have to tell you, it was a very different feeling, knowing that YOU could have been one of the affected. It is, I think, something akin to the feeling of powerlessness. But I don't want to philosophise too much. I continued on my route to Washington DC, upgraded to Business class because of over-booking of the flight. Consequently my seat took up about three times the usual space, and everything was fully adjustable at the touch of a button. One could, if one wished, convert the whole thing into a bed.... Between numerous re-fills of wine, orange juice, snacks, a three course dinner, more drinks, and a film and afternoon tea, I chatted with my immediate neighbour- a lecturer in Business and Economics at George Washington University, Washington DC, and a previous head of the World Bank in Nepal. A truly interesting man, he had met heads of State and Premiers, Prime Ministers and Business-men all over the world, and had a great insight into their motivation for and commitment to change, especially in developing countries. It was a most interesting episode.
The flight being otherwise unremarkable, we arrived in DC at 13.30 local time. It was hot, but not particularly, only 26 centigrade- I had apparently missed a much hotter period. It was, nevertheless, something like walking into a sauna after the dreary weather in England. The big difference was that I had absolutely no control over the temperature.
My good friend Gareth picked me up at the airport and we took a semi-tourist route through the western and central periphery of the centre of DC before arriving at Franklins Bar, in an apparently Spanish area of the city. Being curious about American bars, and less curious about their beer, I began with a pint of IPA, or Pale Ale as they know it. The concept of a pint was not completely alien to them. The bar brewed its own beer as well, and I sampled a home brew for seconds, which turned out to be more hoppy and a heavier drink altogether, and not in the slightest bit warm. I was pleased to find that the better aspects of local brewing had filtered through to this part of the world.
The next stop was a bar more local to Gareth's area, or hood if you will, named Bentley's Bar. My appreciation grew and grew as the pump marked Pale Ale loomed into view. Bar snacks are apparently a much more serious industry over here, and the menu listed such delicacies as Mozarella sticks with sauce, Nachos with salsa, onion rings with some accompanying dipping sauce, and many other very welcome refreshments. The Mozarella sticks turned out to be as tasty as they were described- possibly more so. The decor was largely of automotive nature, the walls being adorned with tens of dozens of number plates of vehicles from all over the States. A couple of TVs showed football (purely American) and Formula One racing. There was a covered, semi-open area along the length of the building which opened onto the street, for those who were more inclined to watch the passers-by. My panama hat illicited several inquiries as to my origin, but I got the impression that England had about the same meaning to my inquirers as America had had for me before this; that is to say little. Then again, afternoon drinking does induce a similar feeling of relaxed nonchalance.
We left several pints happier and drove on to G's house in Cheverly, passing numerous references to Chevy Chase along the way, along with fast food stops, pizza shops and a realtor. It was at around this time that the thought occured to me that American drivers are, on the whole and with exceptions, fairly blaze (with accute accent) about driving. Any reasonably large car or truck (which description fits the majority of US vehicles) will potentially veer across the road at the peril of anyone in its path. Alternatively, it may decide to simply sit at an intersection awaiting a break in the traffic large enough to accommodate a couple of buses. They also have a habit of signalling manoevers as affirmation of what has already been done, and thus anticipation of traffic behavior is somewhat difficult. On a smaller scale, t-junctions and crossroads without lights are interesting as the law demands that everyone stops, and the decision as to who pulls away first is pretty much down to the boldest driver. This invariably leads to numerous cautious stop-starts as each driver edges his or her way towards the other side of the junction, trying to guess how long the opposing driver's determination will hold. Somehow it works........
Dinner was a pleasant affair of bbq'd chicken wings and rice with vegetables. My day of eighteen or so hours, after a night of drinking copious amounts of cider, began to take its toll, and I gave up in favour of sleep at about 2300 US time. Fans and light sheets were very much appreciated in easing the heat and humidity, although a couple of mosquitos somehow evaded every attempt to prevent their entry, and subsequently had a profitable night devouring my feet. I could scarcely imagine how this would become something of a routine in the near future......