[236] in Humor
HUMOR - Dave: Innocents abroad
daemon@ATHENA.MIT.EDU (abennett@MIT.EDU)
Sat Apr 30 23:26:24 1994
From: abennett@MIT.EDU
Date: Sat, 30 Apr 94 23:24:57 -0400
To: humor@MIT.EDU
Innocents Abroad
by Dave Barry
> Recently I went to England on a selfless humanitarian
>mission to sell books. It was a very relaxing trip until about 35
>terrorists had been shooting mortar bombs onto the runway. Really.
>They have political organizations over there that, having
>apparently received public-relations advice from Charles Manson,
>believe that the way to garner public support is to bomb and
>mortar the public. "Hey!" the public is apparently supposed to
>respond. "Homicidal loons are trying to kill me! I am feeling
>supportive toward them!"
> Shortly after we arrived, there were two more mortar
>attacks on Heathrow. None of the bombs detonated, but I was
>starting to wonder about the quality of the airport security. I
>envisioned squadrons of Scotland Yard detectives wearing Sherlock
>Holmes hats, crawling on hands and knees, scrutinizing every blade
>of glass through powerful magnifying glasses, not noticing trucks
>rumbling past them with large signs that said, "CAUTION! MORTAR
>BOMBS!"
> Don't get me wrong. I live in South Florida, and we have
>our problems, too. The very week I was in England, a German
>tourist, checking out of a South Florida hotel, complained about
>an odor in his room, which turned out to be emanating from -- I am
>not making this up -- a corpse under the bed. (Apparently he
>failed to put out the little doorknob sign that says "MAID:
>PLEASE REMOVE CORPSE.") But we South Floridians pride ourselves
>on our mortar-free runways, which enable us to guarantee that our
>tourists will be safe and secure. Unless of course they are
>foolish enough to actually get off the plane.
> Anyway, the mortars were scary, but we had a MUCH scarier
>experience in England: Somehow -- probably because of another
>massive screw up at the CIA -- we got invited to dine at the U.S.
>ambassador's residence. We were the only people on the guest list
>whose titles were "Mr. and Mrs." Everybody else was something
>like "The Lord Earl of Gwebbing and Her Worshipfulhood the
>Viscountess Lady Huffington Prawn-Armature." So when we arrived
>at the ambassador's residence, which is approximately the size of
>Wales, but with more bathrooms, we were feeling socially
>intimidated.
> Fortunately the ambassador and his wife were extremely
>nice, which was reassuring, as was the fact that they had three
>dogs (one main, two backups) with no sense of etiquette whatsoever
>("I know! Let's sniff the viscountess!"). Nevertheless, when it
>came time to eat dinner, I developed severe Table Manners
>Paranoia. I estimate that there were 27 forks at my place setting
>alone. Plus, it turns out that at these formal dinners they have
>rules about whom you talk to: Before the main course, you're
>supposed to talk exclusively to the lady on your left as though
>she is the most fascinating human on the planet, but when the main
>course arrives, you're supposed to drop her like used chewing gum
>and talk to the lady on your right. It's amazing to watch the
>changeover. All heads in the room swivel simultaneously, like
>synchronized motorized elves in a Christmas display.
> Of course I didn't know about this, so midway through the
>dinner I suddenly found myself having an animated conversation
>with the back of the head of the lady on my left, who, despite
>having been, only moments earlier, my closest personal friend, no
>longer seemed to realize that I existed. (To this day, she never
>calls, and she never writes.)
> Speaking of exciting social adventures: Several nights
>later, we were at a party, and the host came up and said, "I'd
>like you to meet Salman Rushdie." Really. Apparently Salman has
>turned into a major party animal. So there I was, chatting with
>him, trying to appear cool, but in fact wondering if I would have
>been safer just staying at the airport. "So, Salman!" I wanted
>to say. "Perhaps we would be more comfortable if we were lying
>face-down on the floor away from the windows!"
> But other than these few anxious moments, we had a
>wonderful time in England. They were having some highly
>entertaining government scandals. We Americans tend to have
>obscure boring complicated financial Whitewater-type scandals that
>nobody understands; whereas the British have the scandals involving
>straightforward, clear-cut issues of obvious significance, such as
>high government officials paying for sex with fish.
> Speaking of food: The British are definitely getting
>better at cooking, and they have discovered the ice cube.
>Fortunately, however, some things have not changed: They still
>have the Royal Dysfunctional Family, and it is still a constant
>source of entertainment. (The day we got there, Prince Charles
>made the newspapers by asking, on a tour of a cosmetics plant, if
>anybody wanted to -- I am not making this up -- lick mango butter
>off his body.)
> Also the British still speak in British accents, so that
>no matter what they say, it sounds really intelligent to
>Americans; and they still really say things like "bloody" and
>"smashing." Plus they keep inventing wonderful new expressions.
>For example, I saw a newspaper front page that had a photograph of
>a man, with the headline: "MR. CHUCKLETROUSERS." I asked a
>number of British people about this expression; they had no idea
>what it meant but they all agreed that they would definitely try
>to use it a lot. So should we, I think. We should maintain close
>ties with our friends across the Atlantic. But we should also
>remain out of mortar range.
>
>(C) 1994 THE MIAMI HERALD
>DISTRIBUTED BY TRIBUNE MEDIA SERVICES, INC.
