After a year and three months of living in Britain, I went home for a brief (10 day) visit. As I sit here trying to get over my jetlag—which always feels worse this side of the Atlantic, as though my body clock is set to permanent New York time—I'll try to formulate some thoughts on the whole experience.
First, America is weird. And it's not unpatriotic of me to say so! It just is a really weird place. I flew in on the final night of the Democratic National Convention, so I missed Obama's speech (though I later watched it online). Kinda would have liked to see it live, there. And then I spent a week at my parents' house, where discussing politics is assiduously avoided for certain reasons I will not go into now. So while the Palin thing was going on, I was living in a parallel universe, without cable, dealing with family stuff (although blessedly managing to escape to the beach every day). I got a nice tan, but I felt frustratingly out of the loop.
So the Palin thing.... Well, I was back in a small town. I grew up in a small town. And the woman reminds me of the mean girls I went to high school with. That's about all I can say about her.
British politics is so different! Political discourse here is so different! Journalists—not standup comics—ask the hard questions.
Without cable for the week, I missed my usual, sanity-saving Jon Stewart counterpoint. Now that I'm back, Comedy Central no longer allows viewers in Britain to watch episodes online. Bastards! Without them, the whole election melodrama feels unbearably surreal.
Yes, these are momentous times, it's true. So why do they feel so high school?