By Hally Joseph, staff writer
Summer Bumming is a bimonthly column by graduate student Hally Joseph, who has the whole summer off and plans on consuming books, cheeses and endless hours of aimless ambling through the Internet. Let her take you with her on thought rambles and Atlanta adventures.
Happy Independence Day and happy all things that make us American: voting and freedom of speech, the American dream and our rights as citizens, bacon cheeseburgers and a pretty kickass national anthem. There’s so much goodness that comes with your American birthright: this huge country that spans all sorts of geographic landforms, the open invitation (and so many outlets) to speak our minds and the constant right to fight for change and reform. We’re the land of Coca-Cola, Hollywood, The Beach Boys and inventions like the airplane, the zipper and the ice cream scoop. I mean, we gave the world George Clooney.
While I’m happy we declared Independence and became our own country in 1776, I’m of the opinion that it wouldn’t be so bad to be British.
When I was 16, my family took a trip to the UK and it struck me like pigeon poop in Trafalgar Square: I wanted to live in this country. Another trip at age eighteen confirmed the idea, so at 21 I spent my junior year at Georgia State University (shout-out to their fabulous GSU/Northumbria Exchange Program) studying abroad in Newcastle upon Tyne. By the time I returned home to Atlanta upon Chattahoochee, I spoke questions with an English lilt, had to convert all my spellings back to American standards and I desperately missed a Cornish pasty from Gregg’s.
Here are a few reasons why I wouldn’t mind being British:
Drinking Culture
The United Kingdom is the only place in the world that has a residential drinking age. If you’re between the ages of five and 17, you may drink at home or a friend’s house with the permission of a parent or legal guardian. At age 17, you’re allowed to apply for a driver’s license. This means you have quite some time to understand the potency (and fun) of alcohol: how it fits the club or the pub but doesn’t really stand up behind the wheel. So while the British may party hard, they also have a long-time understanding of alcohol, instead of making it into a taboo for which you must legally wait until you’re 21. Drinking culture also means restaurants are happy to let you linger at your table for hours, knocking back a cider and black currant with your friends while munching on some chunky chips.
The Lingo
I’d give up Valley Girl “Oh my Gods” and New Jersey “you guys” and my Southern pronunciation of this fine city of “Atlanna” for the completely quirky slang of England. Sure, we all know about the little digressions from our own dialect: the loo is the bathroom, the lift is the elevator and if you say you’re wearing “pants” that means you’re openly discussing your underwear. The Potter kids made “Brilliant!” sound, well, brilliant, and my experiences in Northern England taught me that if someone invited you to a “fancy dress” party that means a costume party and not a swanky affair. Someone lazing about is “faffing about” and a crosswalk is a “zebra crossing” (pronounced zeb-ruh, not zeeb-ruh). And for some incredible reason, the average person knows and actively uses the word “penultimate” over there, which always seems like such an academic term in the States (are you reaching for your dictionary now?).
Vacation Station
Did you know the entirety of England can fit inside the state of Georgia? Here’s where the mammoth size of our country fails us: it’s time-consuming and expensive to get around. There are classic American cities and sights I’ve still never seen due to my budget and time limitations. However, in England a long drive can take you across the country or land you in Wales, Scotland or Paris. Plus, cheap airfare, easy access to trains and close proximity to European cities means vacations to foreign and picturesque locations are far more accessible, especially with a student discount. For $40, I once got a round trip flight to Dublin for a long weekend, where I toured James Joyce’s home, drove through the lush countryside (hello mini-castles of Enya and Bono!) and on the cab drive back to the airport, the driver sang a stirring rendition of “In Dublin’s Fair City.” Best $40 ever spent.
So while I hoist my personal-sized American flag into the air this week and thrill over the fireworks overtaking the sky, I know it wouldn’t be all that bad to be British today. There are a lot of great things I miss across the pond that have no American equivalent. That being said, nothing tops Clooney.