My mate Art is from Texas. Ordinarily that would not be a problem, however, as I have discovered recently, all Texans have an extra gene. This gene requires them to 'loud and proud' proclaim their inherent 'Texan-ness' to the entire world. This proclamation most often, for Art, takes the form of a bright, burnt orange t-shirt with "University of Texas" or other similar things Texan on it.
This really shouldn't be a problem, I mean hey, if you want to look like a walking Terry's chocolate orange, well hey, go right ahead (sorry Art, I know that sounds a bit racist - but then, everyone's a little bit racist!). But the problem is we are surrounded by lots of Americans who, the minute they see Art's shirt, make a beeline for him and then sidetrack him into 30 or so minutes of time-wasting conversation, when I really just want to go back to the hostel, or go get something to eat. For example, on Saturday, Art pulled two little old ladies sitting next to us in the restaurant, then there was the bloke who gave the Texan 'nod' to him in the street... then on Sunday, the workshop presenter Keith Terry came over and just had to shake Art's hand when he spotted his shirt in the room, then two blokes in the hotdog queue for lunch had to have a chat, then a Beverley Knight lookalike (she wishes!) cornered him in the foyer and tried to invite herself to dinner - and then at dinner yet another American woman muscled in on the conversation - all because of this flamin' shirt!
Oh well, I thought to myself, tomorrow's another day, he won't be wearing that shirt again... and then I found out he has 5 of them with him on this trip! Aaaaaaaggggghhhhhhhh, give me strength!
2 comments:
Have you had any Royal Coppenhagen Ice Cream yet????
No, but I have been hanging out with my boyfriends Ben and Jerry...
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