Americans Abroad, Or, Yes, We're Very Sorry About That War.

Today roomie was studying for her exam in American politics. It gave me the opportunity to flashback to 11th grade government and also feel very wise. Up to a point.

I tried to explain why Wyoming and New York both have two senators. All I could come up with was something about a compromise, which may or may not have been great.

I tried to explain why, in Iowa, the caucus involves either raising your hand or moving to one corner for your candidate. "Don't you have more electronics than that now?" Roomie asked.

Then came the clinker. "Why do you not vote to the president direct? Why with the electors? This his how Bush, he became the president, yes? In France we do everything direct." To be fair, I thought, nothing I've experienced about France has been direct. In fact, everything seems to be set up to play a game of how long can it take. But okay, you can elect your president directly, we'll go with that. Why, then do we not do the same? Now, she did recall the 2004 French election in which a crazy conservative nearly got elected based on their popular vote, multi-party system. But all in all, it seems much better than this silly electoral nonsense.

Anyway, I started out feeling very wise when telling Roomie all about the US political system, then I felt very silly and stupid not being able to explain the rationale behind anything because, surprise, there is no rationale!

And then I remembered my Valentine's day, and the people I spent it with, and I suddenly felt like in the category of Americans abroad, I was doing significantly better than a lot of the rest of them.

This is how my Valentine's, here in the city of love, began to rank high on the list of most depressing Valentine's. One of my little Texans has a friend studying in Paris as well, at one of the best European business schools. We went to meet him and some of his friends for dinner. Having gotten into a few unpleasant Barack Obama vs. Hillary Clinton debates lately, I promised not to bring up politics at dinner with the conservatives.

In fact, through the following seven comments, I said nothing until the final one, when I could no longer hold in the urge to scream at the stupidity of my fellow Americans. The conversation, stated with complete intense I shit you not seriousness, went as follows:

Boy#1: I just prefer Obama to Hillary. I mean, it's not a I don't think a woman should be president thing, I just think a man would be better.

Girl #1: Yeah. I just don't think women should be presidents. Like, when I'm on my period, I get really emotional and make bad decisions sometimes. What if she was on her period and having a bad day and like, started a war?

(I drank a glass of wine to keep from mentioning a current war that started for no apparent reason other than someone was having a bad day, and that someone wasn't a woman).

Boy #1: Yeah, I mean, it's not that women aren't smart. It's just a biological difference thing. That's why Obama should get the nomination.

Girl #1: But, did y'all know that if Obama gets elected he's going to be sworn in on the Koran?

(I choked on the wine which I had been guzzling to stop from talking)

Boy #1: Really? That's crazy. We definitely don't want an Islamist running our country.

Girl #1: Yeah, he's not even American. He went to a school run by terrorists in like, India or something.

Girl #2, Voice of All Reason: Are you guys kidding? Barack Obama's a Christian from Chicago.
Well, whatever. At least people would respect him.

(I thought the misery had ended without me commenting, but oh no)

Boy #1: Well, whatever. At least the rest of the world would respect him. It's just, no other country has ever had a chick president before. Like, people won't respect us, ya know?

(I poured another glass of wine)

Girl #2: What about England? Margaret Thatcher?

Boy #1: Oh yeah. Well, okay. So one.

(I lost all self-control)

Me: Um, Israel? Pakistan? Argentina? India? Rwanda? Chile? The Phillipines? Germany? Liberia? Should I keep going?

Boy #1, looked slightly stunned as Little Texas laughed hysterically at my outburst, which they had been waiting for. He paused before coming up with what I can only imagine he believed to be a great come back: Whatever. Y'all are gay.

As soon as dinner was over I bolted from the restaurant and made my journey home. I was told, later, that the guy told the rest of Little Texas who stayed out for the night that he was kidding, and he totally knew about all those chick presidents.

So yes, I am now understanding the bad reputations Americans get abroad and where they come from. And yes, we're very sorry about the war. And the confusing electoral system. Our bad.