I'm a European Citizen!

A good few years ago now, an American friend, living in Munich, explained how he had recently travelled to Barcelona and stocked up on his favourite red wine. Checking in for his return flight, the Spanish airline attendant informed him that he was 23kg over his 20kg allowance (wine bottles, however carefully wrapped, are quite heavy) and that he would have to pay an excess fee. My friend paid no fee and removed none of the bottles. "How did you get away with it?" I asked. He said "I told her in a loud voice that I was an American citizen and that in the US, 43kg was no problem". He asked her why he was being discriminated against. He demanded a manager be summoned to explain why he was being treated like a criminal. In short, he made a big fuss.

My friend told me this story with a smile. He's not usually an awkward customer but he had travelled a long way to get this wine and he wasn't letting it go easily. He explained that he was taking advantage of many european's prejudices that all americans are mouthy, loud people who have no hesitation in making a scene when they feel that they have gotten a bad deal. In this case the check-in attendant didn't want such a scene and my friend & wine made it onto the flight.

That story (which I hope my memory hasn't subverted) has stayed in my head for nearly ten years. Spending some time in the States allows me to experience some of the different ways of approaching and carrying out everyday tasks. I've been caught out a few times already and have felt the temptation to exclaim - "I am a European citizen and we do things differently!". In an ideal world, this would afford me some respect and slack from my American hosts.

For example, the other day rushing to get a rental car back on-time, I pulled in to get some petrol and had extraordinary difficulty operating the petrol pump. It didn't help my mojo that this pump appeared to have clear, very simple, instructions on a little LCD screen. I thought I followed them but one small detail was missing - the nossle is surrounded by a hose that must vacuum-seal around the tank opening before any petrol will come out. In I went to the shop attendant, "the pump on number 6 doesnt work", I explained. Out he came, followed the same instructions, clamped the nossle to the car and out came the petrol. "There you go", he said but in his eyes I could see he doubted that I was of an intelligence to be trusted with car keys. Had I more confidence, I would have explained my European citizenry to him and watched as his respect for me was re-established. Alas, the opportunity slipped by.