England and I are officially in a huge fight. Like, this is the point in our relationship where I have started throwing England’s possessions out of our second story window onto the front lawn and all the neighbors are watching. And do you want to know why? Because England is a liar.
England makes flashy promises about free health care, and then it makes me wait in 4 different lines on Monday, and pay $45 for a doctor to tell me that she won’t prescribe me antibiotics because the fact that for the past week and a half I have been coughing up phlegm in a lovely shade of Kelly green so violently that the sound waves are causing my ukulele to resonate a C6 chord does not concern her, and then England makes me wait in several new lines on Friday as I attempt to have a follow up which England also incorrectly promised would be free, and England tells me that I am not allowed to have a physical exam for the paperwork I need for the India program next semester unless I wait in several more lines, call the hospital, call several other numbers because no one in the hospital knows where I can get a basic physical exam and apparently there are no physicians in the entirety of Norwich because English people are immune to all forms of sickness, and then England tells me that my basic physical examination is going to cost $240 that will not be covered by the free medical insurance that England said I would have, or the private medical insurance that I actually have. England, you are a broken promise, you are an empty stapler in the microroom. But that is okay England, because every second of my life that you waste making me wait in lines and dial unnecessary phone numbers for medical advice that I could get from a Snapple lid, in the afterlife Saint Peter is going to make you watch a minute of Spider Man 3. Too bad you’re not from America, God’s favorite country.
Okay, rant over. Besides the fact that I am dying of the plague, England and I have actually been getting along famously. I just got my acceptance to the India program for next semester, so I am excitedly filling out more paperwork, my favorite pastime. This Saturday is my last mandatory field trip with my American class, so I’ll be able to start traveling on the weekends soon. We’re hiking in Wicken Fen, which is a giant marsh/swamp thing. I only brought one pair of sneakers, and some flip flops (still no progress on the appropriate footwear battle front), so I had the good fortune to introduce myself to more people in really strange manners as I went on a rain boot borrowing expedition throughout the apartment complex. The people of England are a friendly people, offering me food and drink and inviting me into their homes (weird little 10 foot room/pods with shoilet identical to mine) in the same manner that ancients used to offer hospitality to travelers. Sadly, no one else in England owns a pair of rain boots because they have evolved in such a manner that their feet are impervious to the constant rainfall of the region. I think they have a layer of plastic that grows around the outside of their metatarsals, which would also explain English women’s ability to wear unbelievably fancy and uncomfortable shoes for all occasions. Bottom line: no boots (called Wellies in the tongue of the natives), Jesse hikes with plastic bags on her feet tomorrow, and pretends it’s a normal American tradition. More good first impressions (I apologize to any American who ever plans on visiting England. You are going to have to battle some fiercely bizarre stereotypes about Americans based on my behavior).
Also, since I have been just about bedridden with the plague for the better part of the week (mostly interacting with the natives, playing tetris, and learning Jason Derulo songs on my ukulele – I’m really concerned that I won’t be up on my crappy American pop music references when I get back), I’ve decided to really live it up next week to make up for it, which is why I will be watching a performance at the Norwich Puppet Theater. I am 5 years old.
It’s 5:15 AM right now (the plague is unfortunately keeping me awake), so I’m going to take another swig of my Boots brand purple cough and congestion syrup (which I am planning to transfer to a hip flask shortly and also pretend it’s a normal American custom), cut this post short (since I now realize that I have done nothing interesting this week, but am going to post this anyway to waste your time), and attempt to sleep (I’m actually probably going to look for episodes of Jersey Shore online).
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