I've mellowed quite a bit as I've aged, but am still a slightly impatient 'time is money' kind of person. However, I had an awakening when observing the British way of dealing with time delays.
I made up my mind early on that I would observe the way British people behaved in situations before I acted or spoke. I considered this a good test of self awareness, but also, a great way to avoid being tagged an asshole. Because I wouldn't be just some run-of-the-mill asshole, but an American one. I was committed to my plan and imagined my transformation into the picture of civilized manners.
My first test happened very early on. Perry was arriving on the train for his first visit to the England and the Peterborough area. I decided it would be a 'fun experience' for him to take the train from Heathrow airport. Let me clarify that for your first visit to a foreign country after an overnight flight, traversing London to Peterborough via Heathrow Express, the Tube and the East Coast Line over the course of two hours is the exact opposite of fun.
The East Coast line runs from London Kings Cross to Edinburgh, Scotland.
His train seemed to be taking forever and as I waited on the platform, I was struck by the unusual phenomenon that is a hot English summer day. One of the things Perry was especially looking forward to was the promise of a cool-ish summer, so this was certainly a stroke of bad luck, but my excitement in showing him around remained and I mentally built itineraries of the days we would spend exploring the area.
After about 30 minutes, I felt a slight tinge of impatience creep into me. The train was delayed, but so far, there were no indications why. I observed the people waiting around me and no one seemed to be bothered by it so, true to my pact, I took a mental chill pill.
After an hour, impatience mixed with anxiety. What if he hadn't gotten on the train? What if he was stuck in the Underground? As he didn't have a phone that worked internationally, I had no way to know for sure. Again, I looked around trying to catch the eye of anyone around me. A few brows were slightly furrowed in contemplative concern but that was it. Finally, an East Coast employee came out and notified us that there was a fire on the tracks just north of York so the train was stopped about a half mile from the station. So close, but, wait. Isn't York 126 miles north of Peterborough?!? Lovely city, but, yes.
York is a spectacular city to visit.
The response from the platform was one faint 'oh dear' and a couple of shrugs... and that was it. I was incredulous. Where was information on what they planned to do? Was somebody going to put out the fire? Were they to sit on the train all night? Was everyone wearing deodorant in this heat?
After a nearly three hour delay, the train finally pulled in and Perry appeared on the platform. We had a happy embrace and I asked him what it was like on the train. He told me that the car lacked air conditioning and when it stopped, the heat was very uncomfortable. But similar to the scene on the platform, he described the response as 'a low murmur and nothing else.' Not a single frustration solidarity moment. You know, what people do when bad news is delivered during travel. A knowing eye roll. Exclamations of 'Oh come ON' or 'You've got to be kidding me.' One bossy person might stand up and insist someone 'get to the bottom of this.'
Nothing but calm.
We chalked it up to a jaded people, with train delays happening so often, they didn't even take notice of them any more.
But then, I had my first flight out of Luton Airport.
No, that is not a pole shed. It is an airport.
I had been looking forward to European travel, but felt a little nervous not knowing what to expect. I arrived for my flight to Amsterdam in what I thought was plenty of time, but the soul crushing line at security took forever. Finally, I approached the belt and placed my items on it, getting antsy to pass through and get to my gate. I passed through the scanner and went to grab my things only to discover the belt had stopped. It had decided to break down while my stuff was inside.
I looked around noticing there were three men standing near me. We all had luggage on the belt, but I was the only one that moved closer, wanting to see what they intended to do. The men pulled out their mobile phones and started to tap away.
What I thought would be a brief delay turned into an episode of Three Stooges. Agent #1 made oversized gestures hitting the forward button, but nothing moved and he made an excessive shrugging motion so we would know 'he didn't have a clue what was going on'. He motioned to another agent to come over. The oversized gestures and shrugs continued with Agent #2. I looked at the other passengers with my best look of incredulity (I'm quite good at it) but they simply stared at their phones.
This belt appears to be working.
At this point, I wanted to speak to the agents. To not-so-gently suggest that they pull the luggage out and put it through on another belt. That we had flights to catch. That, hello! Did they forget we were at the airport? I didn't speak, however. I was an agitated American but was not going to break my plan. So I took out my phone and pretended to tap away, willing myself to calm down and act disinterested.
Ultimately, Agent #3 got the belt moving and I made my flight with a few minutes to spare. After that, I changed from an early airport arriver to extra-extra early airport arriver.
Over time, I began to master the British zen-like approach to travel. A year later, I was on the Tube and it stopped in the tunnel. I was playing a game on my phone but looked up when I heard the unmistakable whine of impatient Americans. 'Oh, for God's sake, really?' 'What's going on?' 'Whyy are we stopped?'
Keep calm, the Underground is moving here.
I glanced at the passengers around me. No one was paying attention. I turned back to the Americans, opened my mouth to speak, but stopped and smiled. One of them was wearing a Keep Calm and Carry On t-shirt.
And so I did.