Call me a creeper, but...

I have a habit of listening to Americans on the bus.

You can't really help it if you're in the top of a crammed double decker, it's not like we're divided into private compartments and I've got a glass pressed to the wall. Usually I overhear people's conversations, and usually I ignore them, but American accents make me prick up my ears. Part of it could be that the only people I've heard talking louder on public transportation are Australians, otherwise no one beats us for volume.

UEA has a pretty international base of students, and a lot of the Americans I hear are in the country for the first time, as undergrads on a year abroad. Usually they're whining. If they're with another American they're whining about how the Brits Don't Get It, and if they're with a Brit they're whining about the subtle differences in culture that they didn't expect.

Maybe a few years ago I wouldn't have heard it as whining. The English tend to put a more positive, diplomatic spin on things, which makes my countrymen seem rude in comparison. Even though they embarrass me - though no where near as much as the Bush administration did - I still have the weird urge to go talk to them. Spending time with other Americans in general isn't any more appealing than spending time with people from my course - less so, probably, since we'd have much less to talk about - but hearing the out-of-place accent cutting through the somnolent air makes me wonder where they're from, how they wound up so far from home, whether they'll come around and never want to go back, or rush home at the first chance and get laughs from friends and family talking about the little differences in lifestyle that so annoy them now. Stories appeal to me, and every time I watch one of them walk off the bus ahead of me I regret not having the guts to call them out while exposing my own not-belonging-ness for the sake of answering the questions: why here, why now, why you, what next?

It doesn't matter, by the way, how I feel about the Bush administration personally. The year of undergrad I spent here I spoke as little as possible, because every time I opened my mouth someone would declare "You're an American!" like they'd just discovered the secret of the universe, and then demand I explain what brand of moron voted for Bush, supported his policies, and was generally responsible for their view of the U.S. It got so prevalent that by Christmas my standard introduction was "I'm an American, I'm so sorry, I wasn't old enough to vote in the last election so please don't hold me responsible for my country." It's hard to be proud of your country when every time you go for a pint some drunk wants to lynch you because of its foreign policy.

And, regardless of how I voted in yesterday's election, I'm glad it turned out how it did: the English do not approve of Romney in the slightest and I'm just not up for another four years of apologizing for being an American.