Vernacular: Spectacular!

‘Trolling for Guys’ is a fun pastime that all single girls in New York are familiar with. You spot a cute one, try to make eye contact, maybe flash a smile if he’s lucky, and even strike up a conversation after a martini or two. It may sound trite and superficial, but a little harmless flirtation is fun! So why not?

There is one scenario during the game, however, when a New York girl is rendered powerless by a man, despite her level of expertise or how many other options she has. Mind all of you men out there, what I am about to share is not a line you can rehearse or a gesture you can practice. It’s property that is only begotten via natural acquisition (so don’t try to fake it, because we can tell). And that quality is – drum roll, please – an accent.

Hearing the melody of that gorgeous voice fall out of the mouth of a man is like getting roofied by Cupid: there is no releasing yourself from the vice of his vocal chords. Each day I become more and more enamored by British jargon on the whole. Their choice of words, their unruffled tones, and of course, that glorious accent, has made their brand of English the best kind of English. Even in their writing and literature – their text messages! – it’s so saturated with sophistication that their spit literally drips eloquence.

Everyday banter is so fluid and natural that it seems rehearsed. Tethered to their manners, their words are hand selected and delicately plucked to suit the situation. But still, a Brit is always sincere. In fact they are nearly as honest as New Yorkers, except they don’t increase the volume of their voices or incorporate crude words to demonstrate how they feel.

Furthermore, as the London dialect is derived from very proper Old English, it makes ours sound ignorant. See, Brits choose gentler terms in place of the words we use for emphasis, making us seem excessive and even a little desperate. For example, where Americans often employ certain four-letter words to call someone an idiot, Brits would more politely call that individual “simple.” And generally I just like their terminology better! Brits don’t “wait on line,” but instead they “stand in queue.” Their food is “gorgeous,” their tea is “proper,” and their good-looking residents are “fit.”

And while I drool over their vernacular, and unfailingly attempt the accent after I’ve had enough wine, I realized that I loved their way of speaking so much because it wasn’t mine. It’s different from what I know, and that makes it special. But what’s interesting is that since I’ve been here, I received innumerable compliments on my New York twang. Now I am the one with the accent, I’m the one who’s different, and you know what? I actually feel cooler for it.

Weather or Not

There are countless things for which London is known and adored.

Its weather is not one of those things.

I’m not talking about the fact that it rains at least once a day, or that it we can go a whole week without direct sunlight. Right now, that’s the least of my worries. Perhaps my biggest concern with the London weather is the overall winter season – You know winter – It occupies about a quarter of the year’s weather pattern and temperature; there’s a tendency to snow… have you heard of it? Because I’m pretty sure London hasn’t.

What’s so confusing is that unfavorable weather is expected here. There isn’t a Brit who would leave his house without an umbrella or who has ever been surprised by precipitation. Sun, in fact, is less predictable than rain. And in a country which can reflect on literally hundreds of years of its own climate, you would think that its inhabitants would be better prepared for “adverse weather conditions.” Think again.

Living in New York, and more specifically, attending college in upstate New York, has taught me the treachery of snow. There is no denying the brutality of blizzards, with the biting winds and icy streets. I’ve been there; I’ve lived it. It sucks. So forgive me, England, if I have absolutely no sympathy for you if a few snowflakes descend from the sky and accumulate on the ground just to be melted by the sole of your shoe under your stride. The tubes don’t have to be delayed (especially because most of them run underground) and your kids can still attend school. You’ll get through it.

It is almost laughable though, the way Londoners respond to these “adverse conditions,” because they’re more dramatic than a pubescent girl. I’ve received more frantic emails about the weather from people back home than I did the day I landed in India when it was under siege. What are you telling people, London? This is not the apocalypse – it’s a flurry. So sprinkle some salt and stop whining.

Which brings me to my next point; and I know this is difficult to understand but bear with me. Ready? There is a reason why Americans put salt on the pavement – because it works. The ice may be the only legitimate argument you have regarding the weather, but you lose all credibility when the solution is viable and easy. Enough with the drama. Do something about it.

So clearly I feel pretty strongly about this, and perhaps it’s because my threshold for snow is much higher. But I recognize that I am being a bit harsh and even a little insensitive. And for that, I want to offer my sincere apologies to you, London. I know it’s not your fault. I’ve had my fair share of bad weather, so I’m sorry for taking yours granted. And I have faith that one day soon Londoners will be able to tolerate the weather like New Yorkers can. Hey, and maybe even New Yorkers will learn to become as patient as you.

But I would sooner expect Hell to freeze over.