Where are the Americans?

I’ve noticed a distinct lack of Americans in my life this last year.

OK, so most of the 95% of human beings who aren’t American would be pleased to say that, particularly during the Toxic Texan’s reign. But citizens of Uncle Sam have been a part of my life since my teens, ever since a long backpacking trip that took in virtually every State save the two you can guess, and to not have any around feels odd. (There are a couple of Yanks on the course, but neither’s a Republican and one’s been here so long her accent is half British.)

Furthermore, the Americans you meet outside US borders are a different breed to the ones inside the USA: more travelled, better rounded. It’s a shame they’re always targetted by armchair critics when they travel, because in a way they’re the ‘best’ Americans, open to new ideas – we shouldn’t be pissing them off by constantly harping about US policy and aggregate attitudes, so I try not to.

So I never thought I’d say this, but I miss Americans.

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