The Land of the Dramatic, the Free, and the Brave

It doesn’t take much for someone to realize I am American. I have a disgusting accent and a false feeling of self-worth because that is what all Americans are taught growing up. You grow up in ‘Merica you’re growing up in the best country on earth. So great that you shouldn’t travel to any other country, (unless you are intervening in issues that your nose doesn’t belong in…)

However, being that I am a special breed child (one of a kind, unique, science experiment sort of unique) since I grew up in America with British parents I would be lying if I say that I feel fully American.
Examples:
1) I think sarcasm is absolutely hilarious and I am proud to say I am an avid user.

2) I don’t like hugging. I really don’t. Especially with strangers. Why can’t the stranger I just met just say “hello” to me instead of physically harassing me? 

3) I used to force myself to “enjoy” fun days (and sometimes still do…shhh). For example, in school and camp I thought trips that were meant to be “fun” were in fact a torture sentence. No, teacher, I don’t want to jump into a pit of balls and break my head open. No, consular, I actually don’t want to go on that rollercoaster which ensures immediate death. No teacher, I don't  want to go to the zoo and potentially get eaten by a lion.
Fun for me is and will most likely always be routine. And to live it up a bit a trip to a museum every so often really shakes things up. Hashtag IAmTheLifeOfTheParty. 

4) And along with the entire United Kingdom population I find Americans so melodramatic.

Just because Hollywood is in America does not mean you are living in a movie. (Yes, I know I do sometimes join in on the melodramatic fun, but I would like to think it’s usually for kicks.)

Actually in the wise words of Ferras, "Hollywood's not America."

For example I was flying on American Airlines for the first time in years yesterday (I am an El Al chick. That is how I truly express my Zionism. Holla) en route to London.

I get on the plane and the airhostesses are yelling “HELLOOOOO and guess what today is? It’s a SUPER SPECIAL day because we have WIFI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” (me- yes hello to you to you loud individual who seems more excited about wifi than world peace).

When there is turbulence- “now it is going to get a little BUMPY BUMPY BUMPY (keep in mind this was said in a tune. I believe the pilot was a failed singer.)

Dear Pilot,
Just FYI, the "big kid" word for "bumpy bumpy bumpy" is a rather large word consisting of 10 letters called tur-bu-lence- put it all together you get turbulence.

When the seatbelt sign comes on- “put that seatbelt on. Seatbelt time. Woohoo seatbelts seatbelts seatbelts.” How about you just say “please put your seatbelt on”, that is what mature adults say.

I was just thinking you are either on drugs or your a Disney character meets Big Bird. There is no way you are real. You just cannot be real.

One of the air hostesses was walking around with a flashlight loudly proclaiming that she just got eye surgery and can’t see without the flash light. So when she was checking seat belts she would shine the light at you. How about you just don't come to work if you can't see anything... just a friendly suggestion. 

Another one began yelling when this guy came on the plane. “OH MY GD FRED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Fred I haven’t seen you in FOREVER. WOW this is the BEST day EVER. Give me a hug NOW”

Alternative way of saying that like a mature adult- "Hello Fredrick. I am so happy to see you, but I am currently working. So to not cause a stir, I will come over to you when you are sitting in your seat with your seatbelt fastened."

Now Americans, being the interesting species that they are, can also act like the Hulk. Fasinating isn’t it, this dichotomy between the Disney American species and the Hulk American species?

Let’s now do a comparison between two events that have occurred to me within the past twenty-four hours, shall we. One occurring in JFK and the other in Heathrow.

At precisely 8:40pm on April 28 I left JFK en route to London. However, like any person on the entire planet, due to Al Qaeda we must endure anywhere between 5-55 minutes of highly illegal and humiliating activity such as potential strip searches, verbal harassment, intrusion of one’s privacy, and the worst of them all - taking off shoes on an uncarpeted and cold floor. I mean really, if someone has to take their shoes off just make it as comfortable as possible, but we will leave that suggestion for the “Ways Lottie Plans On Changing The World” blog.

Anyways, in JFK this security check is taken very seriously. I believe more seriously than jail.

As I was waiting in line chugging down my water in order to save my water bottle since I am too Jewish to spend $1 on a new water bottle, some woman shrieked “put all your liquids in a baggie. Ma’am don’t stare at me like I’m an idiot because there will be consequences. Sir I am not kidding the repercussions for not doing this is immediate death.”
I find it hilarious that as they are attempting to scare us all so much in the hopes that we will just turn ourselves in for potentially having the ability to be a terrorist, they use the word “baggie”. 

So I take my makeup remover, body spray and Purell and place it in the “baggie” which was thrown at me. Like the good traveler I am I put my laptop, scarf, shoes, jewelry (as someone who wears 5 bracelets and one necklace on a daily basis taking them all off is a real nightmare) and two carry-on bags through the machine.  Then I go through the awful contraption they have in JFK where you have to put her arms up over your head as if security is about to shoot you (which they probably will do someday soon) while this thing scans your body. I don't even want to know what it shows the person checking the image. Chances are the guy working there is some sexual assailant.
After I am miraculously found innocent of having a bomb in my underwear,  I go get my stuff and realized that my polka dot bag was missing and a big man was guarding it. Yup, he was guarding my highly dangerous black and white polka dot bag filled with weapons of mass destruction.

“Ma’am is this your possession? Ma’am I am talking to you.”

Yes I am aware you are talking to me you big, fat bully, give me a millisecond to answer you. 

When I told him it was mine he dumped the contents of the bag and my makeup bag in a box.

I apologized that it was such a mess and that I haven’t cleaned my makeup bag in ages which is why he is getting the remnants of my blue eye shadow all over his gloves.

“Ma’am please do not talk to me as I am going through this procedure.”

Please, all you are doing is going through a Clinique makeup pouch with old makeup falling out of it's containers. You are not in some undercover situation in Iran detonating their nuclear weapon, so calm down.

“Ma’am is this yours?”

No duh Sherlock, it was in my bag which you are getting to know pretty well.

“Yes that is my face serum”

He then started staring at me and asked me why I did not listen to the directions did not place the serum in the “baggie.” I told him I figured it was empty so I was not going to bother.

“Ma’am look me in the eyes when you answer the questions I am about to ask you regarding this possession”

Q- what is this?

A-    again, it is face serum. Serum for the face. Serum face.

Q- did you buy this?

A-    Yes (no, actually Osama Bin Laden bought this for me. Real kind of him)

Q- where?

A-    Sephora (I was beginning to think he was just acting like Inspector Gadget to find out where to buy this for his poor wife. If he has one… oh diss.)

Q- what is that?

A-    a makeup store 

Q- where?

A-    well there are many all over America but this is from New York. (I was beginning to regret that I have never wiki-ed the history of Sephora since I thought that would be his next question)

Q- how long as this been in your possession for?

A-    About a year and a bit

Q- so you don’t know exactly how long?

A-    No!!! (No I do not celebrate or know the anniversary date of me and this useless piece of serum.)

Ok I hope you get the point.

He then put on clean gloves, you know just in case the serum contained explosives he needed different gloves and put that tissue thing all over it. And shockingly my face serum which had maybe a drop left did not contain poison, a bomb, a mini gun, scissors, or Al Qaeda’s phone number. Twas a real April 28 miracle.

He then left me, without thanking me for being so patient, to pack up my bag with the content that he kindly dumped all over a big box.

Real mench right there. Ladies the race is on for this potential bachelor.

Ya, I would rather live with 17 cats and 2 dogs.

Total time of Operation Harass The Innocent Looking Chick- 29 minutes

Anyways, this situation happens again when I was going through security a few hours later in London to get a flight back to Israel.

Kind, somewhat good looking, in shape man who does not suffer from a superiority complex: “Can I see your passport please?”

“Yes, you kind, somewhat good looking, in shape man who does not suffer from an inferior complex, you may.”

“Charlotta, do you mind if I place the contents of your bag on to the table. You can help me do it if you are particular.”

He took the stuff out of my bag with his hands that he clearly washes after using the bathroom, and put it on a table. I apologized for my bag being such a pigsty to which he laughed and said he’s seen worse.

“Oh no, Charlotta it appears that your hand lotion* was the issue. I am assuming you did not place it into the machine because it is practically empty, but I am just going to put it back into the machine to double check. Is that ok with you?”

(*Yes, clearly I travel with enough cosmetics and smelly lotions to give to an Indian tribe… you never know when they come in handy)

Now Mr. Wannabe G.I Joe back in JFK, this is a person. Someone who knows he is not Arnold Schwazenager and doesn’t attempt to be. Someone who knows he is not going to be able to defeat King Kong, so he won’t try. Someone who knows that except for his mummy and daddy, he isn’t that special. Someone who is just doing his job, not trying to win an Oscar for his dramatic acting. Need I continue or are you too busy harassing another twenty two year old wearing the least threatening multi colored scarf?!

“Yes it is ok” And if you want me to marry you that would be ok to. Really, it would.

He came back with my hand lotion, apologized for taking up my time and helped me put everything back into my polka dot bag.

Total time- 3 minutes.

Three minutes of no “WOOHOO’s” “HEEEEEEEEY’ “YAY YAY YAY USA USA USA” or “MA’AM LOOK AT ME” “YOU PIECE OF S*^T FOR NOT PLACING THAT DROP OF WATER IN THE BAGGIE” “YOU IDIOT”.

So god bless the USA. The land of the “we love FUN FUN FUN”, physical harassment done in the form of hugging, and absolutely ridiculously dumb humor. With the demography of Hulk wannabes or Disney wannabes who don’t know how to act like normal people just trying to get through the day.