The queue has morphed into a small mob at this point. The two guys in front of us are deeply involved in a heated argument over how much money they spent on one another this evening. Meanwhile, Karissa does some investigating on the price of a large order of chips. I sidestep the debaters. Guy A decides to follow Karissa to the menu at the side of the Trailer. Behind me, I hear Guy B attempting to speak French to the girls walking past. He promptly turns around to ask the girl leaning on the lamppost if she thinks this is sexy. Too far gone to comprehend the situation, she looks at him incredulously before spitting on the ground. Finally I am at the front of the queue. The Greek man running the till gives me a sigh of relief at the simplicity of my "large chips" order. "1.70," he tells me. Giving a false name, I pay with exact change. I have lost track of Karissa as I slide down the counter. Grease and salad fly in every direction. Two finicky girls to my left are doing the best job at angering the cooks with their requests. Mayonnaise suddenly appears on my coat. Resolute, I manage to transfer most of the salad dressing from my shirtfront to the cold metal of the countertop. Finally, with a shout of "Sarah!" I reach for the steaming styrofoam boat. Salt and vinegar, ketchup. Hold the mayo.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Thursday, December 11, 2008
You can't spit here.
From America, my conception of the United Kingdom was very vague. Perhaps it was even a little skewed. I did not really make much of a distinction between England and Scotland. To me, England was London (the Queen, Big Ben, fish n' chips) and Scotland was the land of rolling green hills and bagpipes. It never occurred to me that such a strong sense of nationalism existed in this proud nation north of England.
As soon as I crossed into highland territory, I recognized a different sort of electricity in the air. The people were friendlier; and although I
sometimes had difficulty comprehending their dialect, I could tell they meant well. (After all, smiling is universal.) Scotland was an
interesting sort of contradiction to my usual notions of north/south geographic regions in a nation. For instance, in the United States, the people are fairly obviously characterized by their geographic location. Northerners exhibit a bustling, businesslike air; while things tend to move a little slower in the South. In the UK, however, the opposite seems to be the case. The English (aka Southerners) are much less easygoing, while the Scottish (Northerners) downplay the importance of punctuality and efficiency, thus giving Scotland an endearing atmosphere.
When I was in Scotland, I made it to two of its major cities: Edinburgh and Glasgow. Many adventures took place, which may or may not have included castles, Harry Potter, a stone heart on which to spit, and eating cookies off the sidewalk. Let's just say, that even though I was never able to conclude what exactly is (or isn't) worn beneath the kilt, I feel like I got a pretty good insider's view of this lovely little nation.
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