Can I ask you a question?

Vagabond Urges

I’m not used to women in bars looking at me like I’m a complete a**hole.

Truth be told, I’m not used to women in bars looking at me at all, but here was this woman, mouth twisted in disdain, staring at me with eyes dripping scorn. I wasn’t expecting that reaction.

She’d asked me a familiar question, “Is it difficult being back in the US?” As I mentioned before, it is indeed pretty weird, including the strange sensation of being the same nationality as most other people and specifically: talking the same.

I suppose that’s part of why I’ve been drifting over to accents from the UK more often lately. (In addition to the insecure suspicion that I’m boring when I’m in my native land.)

Accents have always entertained me, since I was a wee lad who would occasionally talk like an Indian who thought he was Jamaican, often discussing who…

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