If I’m From Britain, Santa is from PA.
This morning I pulled into the Starbucks parking lot and stepped out into the rain. I forgot my umbrella at home. As I ducked under some low hanging branches to get to the sidewalk a white haired man three times the size of me stepped on to the sidewalk square I was aiming for. With is beard trimmed to a goatee he could have passed as Santa Claus in the off-season. “What a rainy day,” he said.
“Sure is,” I replied.
“Must remind you of home,” he said with a smirk.
“Yeah I guess so.” I replied kind of puzzled. Maybe rainy days remind people of home. This is a saying I never came across but still it could be one.
“You’re from Britain right?”
“Oh, no, I’m not,” I said with a slight chuckle.
“I’m sorry I thought I detected a British accent. Where are you from originally”
“Long Island.” I replied. Though I had watched part of an episode of Dr. Who while I was getting ready that morning.
“Hah, well I guess that is closer to Britain then where we are now.”
I laughed and let the man go ahead of me as we entered the store. He offered to purchase my breakfast. I thanked him but turned his offer down. He insisted, I persisted and then gave the cashier the money. So I got a free coffee and bagel out of the deal.
My co-worker suggested he was a bear and British was code for gay. I’d rather believe he was a nice old guy (maybe a bit hard of hearing) who was a bit embarrassed by suggesting I was British.
