Spring Break
Lost in translation
Londoner's attitude toward American women leaves something to be desired
The Josk Worn
Issue date: 12/6/04 Section: Opinion
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Back to the beginning, I arrived at Heathrow airport on the morning of Oct. 1.
Changed some money and found my way to the tourist information desk. Booked a room at Piccadilly Backpackers and took the London Underground, aka the Tube, to central London.
After "minding the gap" when exiting the train and following the yellow and black "way out" signs, I trudged a block to the Piccadilly Backpackers.
Checked in my room and slept for a couple hours. Woke up and thought I'd spend a pleasant evening watching a play. Next thing I know I was being verbally assaulted by a peculiar Londoner.
All I did was ask for a play schedule at one of the many theater discount booths. The guy wanted to be too helpful and asked what type of play I wanted to see. I replied that I didn't know until I looked at what was running.
Without handing me the schedule, he pressed me for another answer.
So I told him that I was looking to see whether Danny Webb was acting in any of the plays. He said that he knew Webb and because of television work Webb was not in a play at the moment.
Then, he introduced himself as Peter and asked me to dinner at a restaurant. Against my better judgment I said yes.
During our Tube ride to the restaurant, Peter asked, "Do you like English men?"
I thought it odd since I was spending my entire year's vacation in England, Scotland and Wales. I said that I never really thought about it like that.
Slowly, I could feel the start of my neck hairs standing at attention.
Instead of the usual questions about occupation, hometown or reasons for travel, Peter wanted to know, whether I had a boyfriend, whether I ever had been married, whether I liked men, whether I would date an English man, whether I ever had a one-night stand, whether I ever had kissed someone I barely knew and how long would I have to know a guy before sleeping with him.