Civil servant

Right now I'm sorta half unemployed because a lot of my classes are out for the summer and I'm not getting new courses because I'm done teaching in a month. I have been having a lot of unnecessary "me" time since getting back from Hungary. I clean a lot, and I baked a chocolate molten cake, and I read... but mostly I just sort of walk into the city center and look at clothes and kitchenware I can't afford. You'd think this would be frustrating, but it's not at all.

I was on one such journey downtown (10 minutes by foot, across a very popular bridge) at 3 one afternoon when I saw a group of a dozen loud, suit-clad British men walking towards me. I immediately veered away from them and clutched my purse. I have a fear of British people when they're in packs. A) They are usually belligerent and B) their youths wield knives. Now don't get me wrong, anytime I've encountered Brits in America they're charming and eccentric, polite and refined. But on the Continent they act like movie stars in hotel rooms. They throw up in the street and get into traffic accidents and wobble on slutty platform shoes. Ugh. I don't like.

What really gets under my skin is that the tired complaints that people make of Americans abroad, too loud, don't know foreign languages, drunk, lost, poorly dressed, etc., are much more fitting of Brits. Have they been tarring the English speaking community for centuries?

Perhaps it was my scowl or the way I clutched my purse but these British guys eyed me and started yelling "Miss! Miss! Sprechen Sie Englisch?" My crabby face made them think I was a local. I nodded and sighed, knowing the gig was up the minute I started to speak. "Yep, I'm an American." They started whistling and encircled me, thrusting a sheet of paper in my face. "We're on a business trip scavenger hunt and we haven't a bloody clue as to what the Dom is?" "The German word for cathedral, right behind you," I said, pointing. "And what is a Bembol?" "It's a jug that holds apple wine." "And what exactly is Fressgasse?" "Boys, it means 'chow street,' there's lots of little cafes there." I stopped them before they launched into "She's a Jolly Good Fellow." I started walking into the city as they yelled "Cheers" behind me. And then I heard them say "Pub stop gentlemen! This calls for a pint!" Keep it up Brits.