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| "Paper or plastic, Sir?" |
High end supermarkets like ‘Whole Foods’ and ‘Central Market’ have packers at the check-outs who do an excellent job of packing your food into half the number of bags that it would ordinarily take a novice. You also get to choose between plastic bags or, for a small charge, brown re-cycled paper bags (with handles! – that’s not always the case here - I have never understood why). After the customary “How are you, Sir?”, without the slightest pause for an answer, will come the next question “Paper or plastic, Sir?” However, the packers have all been specially trained to utter these four small words in a tone that clearly conveys the underlying question ”Nice guy or selfish, mean, environmentally irresponsible bastard, Sir?” You are really left with no choice so you simply reply “Paper please” but in a retaliatory, self-righteous manner that conveys the underlying message “Paper of course! How could anybody possibly choose plastic! (and this is not really a baby-seal-skin wallet and I’m buying the veal chops, the foie gras and the turtle soup for my bedridden neighbour).”
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| Household Appliances |
Most households in Texas have a dishwasher and a washer-dryer and, for the garden, a lawnmower and a hedge-trimmer. Obviously in the UK we have slightly different terminology – we would call them Mexicans.
When I had the misfortune to knock over a cup of coffee during a meeting in Louisiana, a call was made to ‘housekeeping’ to come and rescue the situation. I was nervous because, when a similar incident happened in Holland, a terrifying, sour-faced, Dutch ‘cleaning lady’ burst into the room, rag in hand, and scowled with such menace that everybody, regardless of rank, adopted defensive postures and child-like ‘it wasn’t me’ expressions. She barged her way between chairs, vigourously scrubbed the table as we all dodged her elbows and then stormed out muttering something ‘unsavoury’ in Dutch. When the door opened in Louisiana, I thought my worst fears had come true. An enormous African-American lady appeared, her frame snugly fitting that of the door. I was wrong - she greeted us with a dazzling smile and, in reply to my profuse apologies, declared loudly and emphatically, “Honey! You don’t make no mess – I don’t have no jarrrb!”. What a wonderful, refreshing attitude to one’s lot in life!
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| Urban Landscape |
In most countries of Europe power supply cables and telephone lines are routed underground often through domestic gas supply pipelines. In USA (and Canada) they are still strung overhead. The entire urban landscape is a mess with nothing short of a bird’s nest of tangled cables and grey electrical contraptions high up on rickety poles. Few of the poles are anywhere near vertical and it is often unclear if the poles are supporting the cables or the cables are supporting the poles (I guess a bit of both).
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| Silicon Valleys! |
I have surprised even myself that I have refrained from mentioning the abundance of silicon until my third epistle. It was obviously one of the first things I noticed but I thought it deserved an appropriate time to study and assess. I have mentioned before that physical appearance is very important in American business and ambitious young girls crave figures that will likely open many doors for them (both metaphorically and literally it would seem). Breast enhancements (enlargements / augmentations) are commonplace. It is not unusual for girls to ask their parents to provide a matching pair for their 18th birthday probably leveraging the parent’s guilt of being genetically to blame for the perceived inadequacy . A thought crossed my mind – since Americans are so big on the ‘buy one, get one free’ deals, there is a great business opportunity here. Maybe the girls could be encouraged to have a second, spare set implanted on their backs - the girls would certainly attract the attention they crave (and from every direction) - and they would be much more fun to dance with.
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| EZ-Tag Convenience |
The EZ-Tag system (pronounced ‘easy-tag’ – ‘ezed-tag’ doesn’t have the same ring to it) allows you to fit an electronic widget to the windshield (windscreen) of your car and fly through toll booths on the toll-ways without having to stop. Your car is recognized and your account debited. Unfortunately many EZ-Tag exit stations slow traffic very effectively, by squeezing the vee-hicles through VERY narrow lanes, intimidatingly edged with battle-scarred concrete blocks. No matter how tightly you grip the steering wheel, breath in and clench your buttocks you can’t make your car narrower (though you always try). I prefer to wait in line for a few minutes and then glide through the much wider pay-booth lane. The only thing that you then have to avoid is the protruding arm of the cashier who fully expects you to stop (but that doesn’t scratch).
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| EZ-Tag Inconvenience |
When a ‘T-storm’ (for some reason Americans feel the need to abbreviate long and complicated words like ‘thunder’) was predicted to hit Houston in mid August, I tuned into the Weather Channel to monitor the storm’s progress (in between commercials). I then poured myself a large beer, grabbed some peanuts and set up camp on the 17th floor balcony to watch the spectacle. It truly was magnificent - well worthy of a special episode on Discovery Channel. I was delighting in the power of Mother Nature when my building suffered a direct hit. The simultaneity of thunder and lightning obviously provided no warning and the shock of the ‘mega-ton’ explosion made me drop almost a pint of ice cold Belgian Pilsner into my lap. The sensory experience was profound on many levels. Realizing that important parts of my anatomy had probably become more conductive, I thought it prudent to retire indoors.
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| Hummer ... why? |
Hummers….why?
Working for a small company has numerous benefits; one of them - not having to suffer the so-called ‘lunch’ in the Shell ‘canteen’. Each lunchtime we take a welcome break and venture out to discover new culinary delights. There is a remarkable selection of restaurants in the immediate vicinity of the office (bearing in mind that ‘immediate vicinity’ means within a 10 mile radius to Americans). Restaurants range from the expensive ‘Taste of Texas’ (good for entertaining clients) to the very inexpensive, dilapidated shacks usually named after their abbreviated proprietors – Joe’s, Sam’s and Vickie’s to name but a few. I would have crossed the road, if not the state, to avoid these places if it hadn’t been for the recommendation of my friends and colleagues but I have to admit that their state of dilapidation and their total lack of pretense at décor are more than compensated for by the wonderful, mouth-watering, homemade food. The only problem is that if you enter one of these establishments wearing a shirt and tie and carrying a briefcase (e.g. after a client meeting) half the kitchen staff will likely flee from the back door.
In my first epistle I mentioned the requirement to take theoretical and practical driving tests before being given a Texas driving license. I did learn a couple of important things about driving in Houston but having spent the summer here there are a few additional skills that should have been covered:
- How to open a car door without suffering second degree burns
- How to drive with two fingers on top of the steering wheel
- How to buckle a seat belt that is the temperature of a branding iron
- How to avoid poaching in your own juices until the AC stops pretending to be a hair dryer
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| Turbot- a fish not a car! |
My suspicions of the American attitude towards food were confirmed this weekend as I was preparing dinner and half listening to the commercials on TV. I had treated myself to a turbot (you pronounce the ‘t’ at both ends of the word – it’s a fish - not a car) a rare delicacy in the southern states and probably a stray from the cooler waters of Canada. I had scented the fish by twisting lemon peel over the flesh and gently rubbing in the oils with a bunch of fresh thyme. The fish was to be seasoned, last minute, with sea salt, white pepper and a touch of cayenne and then steamed over Chablis (a cool glass of which was already being ‘quality controlled’ by the Chef) and then the cooking liquor would be reduced, seasoning adjusted and a dash of cream added to make a light sauce.
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| The $5 foot long! |
My reverie and saliva glands were rudely and crudely interrupted by a loud and sensational TV commercial for ‘THE FIVE-DOLLAR-FOOT-LONG !’ - apparently a fast food that’s only virtues worthy of mention are its cost and its length! The bathos hit me like a stun gun! Even McDonalds, that purveyor of fine plastic toys and dull grey burgers that have the taste and consistency of damp cardboard, would struggle to reduce the appreciation of fine food to the common oil-field metric of ‘dollars per foot’.
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| Turbot in Chablis sauce |
In my first epistle I mentioned the Texan intolerance of vegetarians. Another T-shirt slogan I encountered in Ruby’s BBQ restaurant: “I haven’t taken 100 million years to claw my way to the top of the food chain…. to eat vegetables!”.
Homeless people are sadly commonplace in Houston and many wait at traffic lights holding placards with heart-rending messages. However, there is now a trend of scribbling something supposedly amusing on the placards to cause a smile and increase the chance of donation. Examples include:
- “I do have a left leg – left in Vietnam”
- “I won’t lie – I need a beer” and on the reverse side of the card to be shown at will, “and a red-headed hooker”
- “My wife and kids were abducted by Ninjas – need money for karate lessons”
- “Homeless but, hey, I don’t have to go home to your wife!”
I saw three of the five cars in front of me donate to the last one – I didn’t have any change.
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| Ice Hockey Extravaganza |
Mid way through a business trip to Denver, one of my team buddies suggested going to an evening hockey game (hockey means ice-hockey here). I didn’t really fancy the idea but reluctantly went with the flow and have to admit that I thoroughly enjoyed the experience. Ice hockey is not just a sport it is more of an audio-visual extravaganza! A sound system and light show that would rival any London nightclub, cheerleaders, beer, burgers, popcorn. We were even provided with coloured pom-poms to wave energetically at appropriate times during the game, which, somewhat embarrassingly in retrospect and sobriety, we actually did (though I still have no idea who we were supporting)!
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| Ice Hockey Martial Arts |
Interestingly though, the biggest roars of excitement and encouragement and pom-pom jiggling were not invoked by the goals but rather by the fights that broke out between players. Apparently it is an acceptable and even expected part of the ‘sport’. In any other sport it would result in at least a season’s suspension. I’m not sure what message that conveys to youngsters but, hey, it was great fun!
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| Wacko for President! |
Americans seemingly have a remarkable capacity to forgive and/or forget. It seems like the entire nation has spent weeks mourning the loss of a grotesque, plastic, freak and drug addict because he was an artistic genius forgetting that he sidestepped numerous charges of child molestation by paying off his accusers over $20,000,000 (because he was innocent…um?). Thankfully, relief from the tedious 24 hour TV coverage of Wacko Jacko came with the death of Teddy K so the flags were lowered to half mast and the sensationalist bandwagon of mourners driven around to his door.
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| Remember Chappaquiddick? |
Now it is his turn to be revered as an archangel and his days of debauchery, DWI, ditching a car and leaving a young girl to drown as well as countless other misdemeanors are long forgotten. I guess it was OJ Simpson who proved unequivocally that, in America, money and celebrity will always prevail over justice. Now, I believe it is fundamentally wrong to wish anybody dead (apart from the psychopath who fathered two kids with a girl he held hostage in his back yard for over 18 years and the guy who dinged my car in the Netherlands) but I do believe that the world has been saved from a potential catastrophe. When it comes to money and celebrity, anything is possible in America and, if he had lived longer, judging by the current mass hysteria, it is quite likely that this guy could have been elected to President….um, no, sorry, wait a minute, I meant Wacko Jacko.
An American characteristic that, depending on time of day can be either extremely irritating or quite endearing is the willingness to talk to complete strangers. Bizarrely though, the topics of conversation can range from current affairs to personal issues best reserved for doctors and ‘shrinks’. There’s an old guy on the 12th floor who has trouble with his prostate and there’s a lady on the 9th who loathes her son-in-law and suspects her daughter might be anorexic - I know neither by name! If you enter a crowded elevator it’s like arriving late at a cocktail party. I will enter cautiously but, being British, will stand in silence and dolefully watch the numbers ticking over just in case a floor is missed. Of course if anybody mentions the weather I will jump in gleefully - this being the only legal subject of conversation between consenting strangers in the United Kingdom.
In my second epistle I mentioned the eagerness of predatory tow-trucks to pounce on cars that stop beside the road to answer cell phones. Here’s an enlightening snippet of information – of course there is no AA (Automobile Association) or RAC (Royal Automobile Club) ‘roadside service’ or ‘rescue and recovery’ in America but these guys don’t even pretend to provide that service - they are proud to be known simply but appropriately as ‘wreckers’!
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| Presidential Address |
On 9th September I had the ‘privilege’ of watching my first live Presidential address on television. This proved to be worthy of several comments:
- 45 whole minutes of television without a single commercial – this doubtless would have caught many viewers by surprise and may well have resulted in over 35 minutes of viewing without snacks and popcorn
- Obama greeted Hilary C like he would his mother while so obviously conveying the message “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about your campaign, Bitch” - and the (low pH) ‘chemistry’ was so deliciously mutual
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| Obama-Clinton Chemistry |
- There were so many choreographed ovations that the auditorium resembled a chair durability test at IKEA
- There wasn’t a single obese person in the audience (maybe a result of the exercise regime ref. point above) but hardly a representative sample of the populace
- Obama can certainly deliver a convincing message but even He suffered from the dreaded ‘autocue line-break syndrome’ and continually paused at inappropriate. Places in mid-sentence and sometimes. Amusingly, the audience wrongly took that. To be a cue to applaud.
- The placement of the two autocue screens either side of centre, at times, made Obama look like a sluggish tennis umpire
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| The new Blair / Bush |
Setting aside politics though, when it comes to personality and charisma, Blair always made George Dubbya look like a bumbling nincompoop. Now the (cowboy) boot is on the other foot and Obama is quite obviously having the same effect on the UK’s ‘jaw-drop’ Brown.
Following my Letter from America II, several Americans did actually ‘fess up’ to owning American cars. I therefore need to clarify that it was only the so-called ‘muscle cars’ and the ‘muscle-salesmen’ with the ‘muscle-brains’ that I described as ‘crass’ (and surely the term itself is qualification enough) – other American cars are just big and plain and uninspiring and big (did I say big twice?) but certainly not crass. Anyway, thanks for ‘fessing up’ and correcting my misconception. Pre-shade it.
