Wednesday, April 08, 2009

newky brown, abroad

Given that I'm a Brit, it shouldn't be a surprise that I find it rather heartwarming that I encounter so many Anglophiles abroad. I'm in a pub in Greenwich Village (I in turn feel a bit too self consciously British to just call it The Village - I'm still in formal mode) and a guy sat beside me is explaining his enthusiasm for all things English. As we talk, the waitress comes over and takes his order. He very deliberately makes sure he's getting cheddar on his cheeseburger, and muses over what he'll have to drink.

"I tell you what", he says. "The Newcastle looks pretty good right now". He nods to the waitress. "Yeah, I'll take a Newcastle".

I know that he isn't actually wrong. When I order a San Miguel in Brighton I don't ask for a 'San Miguel Continental Lager', so there's no reason he should have to ask for a Newcastle Brown Ale.

To my right are two guys much more comfortable in their American skin. Granted, they both order Stella, but they both belch proudly after their first gulp. One cries "Yeah baby. Let's get this party started!". They start talking about bitches.

I start to drink up.

1 comment:

Ben said...

"The Newcastle" - oh dear. Still, I suppose this Geordie should just be pleased Americans are drinking our brew...