You're not speaking my lingo.

Remember that little note that I took from the cab driver?  Well I lost it.  I know, I’m bummed.  Whilst going through the airport security I had to take off my shoes, letting it fall out without my knowledge!  Shoot.  I really wanted that souvenir.  Anyway…There I was sitting at my gate.  I was right; my flight was delayed for about two long hours.  This woman and her son strolled up and sat close by.  She was speaking to her son about who knows what-I couldn’t understand anything she said.  I supposed that she was speaking some crazy unheard of language until her son replied in English with the most adorable little British accent.  I eavesdropped even more closely to what she was saying.  And yes, she was speaking English!  I could not believe it!  I suddenly remembered the I Love Lucy episode when Lucy couldn’t understand anything the Brits were saying.

               More and more young people began to sit near me.  I opened a conversation with the closest gal next to me about Manchester and what there is to do there.  She penned down many clubs for me visit and drink-the drinking age in England is 18 (this paper also included a phone number on the back of one of the boys in the group…yay me).  I assured her that I did not drink, and never will!  This caught everyone’s attention.  Before I knew it, there were about 30 teenagers surrounding and attempting to inform me on words that I should and should not say.  Quick lesson of a few obvious words:

Sweater=Jumper

Pants=Undies (The kids always laugh when I tell them to go put their pants on)

Trash=Rubbish

Sidewalk=Pavement

Pissed=Really really really bad word!  I hope that it doesn’t slip while I’m around the kids…

  I learned about the best places to shop, which includes TopShop, River Island, and the cheapest of all, Primark! http://www.primark.co.uk/

               We boarded the plane and I got seated by the window!  Hurray, finally I have control.  On the opposite side of the window, two oldish ladies plopped down.  They drank about six bottles of Champaign and then fell asleep, luckily not on my shoulder.

Because we left at ten at night, I was unable to see the sights while ditching New York because of the dark.  I knew that I would be arriving at ten in the morning in Manchester, England, so I sought to wait for the sunlight that would fleetingly come upon us.  I fell asleep, of course.  But woke up right before flying over Ireland!  Everything was so green and bordered up like an enormous bright Tetris game.  I was enjoying the brilliant view until the flight attendant handed me my immigration papers to fill out.  I had to finish looking out the window, which made me outraged!  Seriously irritated.  I was neglecting all of the beautiful views, but I had to finish the papers by the time I got off the plane.  We landed, and with my completed papers I stood in line to go through immigration.  I was extremely worried that they would stop me and ask for my bank account information or for some strange English reason.  The chap asked me who I was staying with, why, and how I knew them.  As I began to stride out, he stopped me and asked, “You’re not coming here to work are you?”  Because I did not have a visa, I was required to say no.  I rehearsed with Michelle, my employer, that I should not give any hints that I’d be working. 

I casually replied, “Nope.”