A newfound patriotism

I developed a new sense of patriotism after spending five months studying (or something) in Australia. What I quickly learned during my time abroad is that things run exceptionally smoothly in America.\nIn America there is a zero-tolerance policy for sexual harassment; in Australia, they tolerate it very accommodatingly. On a train ride to Melbourne, I was being ferociously flirted with by a very drunk transsexual (I know she was drunk because the train served her nine bottles of wine before cutting her off. And I know she was a transsexual because she loudly insisted that having a penis makes her no less of a woman). What began as obscene tongue-gesturing eventually escalated into her placing her hand on my inner thigh. At this point I relocated myself to a different train car. When a member of the train staff came by to ask me why I moved, I explained that I had been petted inappropriately. He yelled at me for causing a scene, forced me to return to my seat next to the transsexual and told me that I should not be so uptight about something that was probably just a “friendly touch.”\nIn America, the customer is always right; in Australia, the customer is always a confused imbecile. At the concession stand of a movie theater, my friend and I ordered one small Coke to share. The lady working there handed us one large popcorn and two large drinks and asked for 40 dollars.\n“We only ordered one small Coke,” I said.\n“No. You ordered one large combo meal.”\n“I said one small Coke.”\n“I heard one large combo meal. Forty dollars.”\nAfter 10 minutes of her trying to convince us that we had ordered a large combo meal, she finally “compromised” by only charging us for one of the large, six-dollar Cokes.\nIn America eating is leisurely; in Australia it was competitive. The dining hall of my dorm, which was the only place to find food within a 2-mile radius, was open for breakfast and dinner. If you wanted lunch, you had to get to breakfast early to make a sandwich to save for later before the sandwich bar ran out of meat. If you weren’t lined up for dinner by 5 p.m., you probably wouldn’t make it in before the kitchen ran out of water (the only drink available) and clean utensils.\nAt 9:30 every Tuesday night the staff set out a couple trays of donuts, but not enough to feed everybody. The entire dorm would line up outside the dining hall two hours early, and when the doors opened we stampeded in like a pack of feral dogs, tripping each other on purpose and stuffing as many donuts into our mouths as we could manage. “When those doors open, we are not friends,” I used to warn my friends as we stood in line.\nI wouldn’t trade the excitement and adventures I encountered in Australia for anything. But on this Fourth of July, I feel more blessed than ever to call America my home.