So there we were on the tube: a rowdy and enthusiastic group of American students looking forward to what our next adventure had to offer. I’ve never thought to think about our loud nature, but in this moment, as the rest of the passengers remained eerily silent, I could feel a blush of crimson spread upon my cheeks as the unspoken resentment spread throughout the passenger car. I’m an observer. I love to listen and watch people. Yeah this may seem a bit nosy or be distastefully referred to as “eavesdropping”, but I’ve learned a lot from my people watching. This day on the tube I can’t help but notice two posh Londoners staring and snickering among one another as they contemplate our brash and unruly American conduct.
Why should the tube hold this unwritten code of silence? What has made the tube this place of silent contempt against those unaware of the British principals? I think back to America, a nation where I’ve spent the entirety of my life. Riding the bus in Madison there’s a mixture of contempt, haste, and yelling. Everyone talks over each other to be heard amongst the chatty passengers. I would love to observe these posh Londoners on a Madison city bus. Traveling throughout London I’m overwhelmed by a culture that is blatantly similar to ours, and yet at the same time remarkably diverse. The language barrier that by all grammatical measurements is minor is significant every time I use an “American” word and am scoffed at or receive a lingering glance glazed with confusion.
My family is loud. Coming from a family of six you have to learn to scream over each other to be heard. Any London student would be appalled by the undignified speech that resonates around my kitchen table. My mother, maybe the loudest talker I’ve come across yet, would surely be exiled from the London tube. Being one of eight kids, she’s developed her booming and raspy voice that resonates in every room. This voice, that has comforted and scolded me throughout my life, would surely be received by silent disdain, painted on the faces of those superior London natives. What caused this unspoken hated for Americans?
Is it merely our loud and unkempt voices, or maybe our polite disposition that is deemed suspicious by the people of this alien city? It is unnatural for me, along with many other Americans, to go about my day without the three simple words that dominate the American dialogue: “Please, thank you, and excuse me”. These three words are sparse and rare among my days in London. In instances where the light and friendly “cheers” is uttered as a substitute for, as far as I’m concerned, any word at all, I’m left feeling content and grateful for this friendly Londoner who proved to me that not all British people are without good manners. But what makes our American standards of manners good or superior? Are we the unusual ones for being friendly to all of those we encounter?
I hope that my time in London and traveling throughout Europe will instill in me a sense of acceptance for these alien cultures that I yearn to understand. Maybe it’s not a matter of cultural superiority, but an understanding that we are all different and yet alike at the same time. One thing that I am certain of is that my loud booming voice and irritatingly American tendencies, which have been bestowed upon me since birth, will not be swayed by the glares of the posh passengers sitting across from me. Instead of being intimidated by this gossip and passing judgment, I return the critical glances with my expert American smile and opt to not change a bit for these skinny fashionistas. I find comfort in knowing that if the situation were reversed, their cynical sentiments would veer towards gratitude once encountering our overly polite dispositions in America.
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