I Hate Your Fanny Pack

“Chest hair is back, like fanny packs and aviators.” -Jonah Enbar

Had I charged my fucking iPod, I might have avoided it. If I had had my headphones on, I might not have been subjected to it.

“It” being a huge group of American tourists.

I don’t even have to live in a foreign country to find the quintessential American tourist sofa king annoying. They are loud. They wear ugly white athletic shoes. They speak to the locals in a slow tone usually reserved for stubborn children. They congregate in large groups, discussing how the venue, weather, food, style of clothing, or wind directionality isn’t like “how it is in America.” And that was what I found myself standing in the middle of.

All I was trying to do was navigate the crowded market aisles to get to my favorite veggie stand so I could get the makings for my evening meal. Apparently a tour bus had just offloaded a large group who were wandering around the market. A portion of the group was wondering, loudly, how people in this country got around. I inferred their tour guide had mentioned the high price of cars and low car ownership in this country. This discussion was taking place not ten feet (three meters) from a set of overflowing bike racks.

I made it to my veggie seller, only to discover that part of the group had beaten me there. They were debating buying some apples for a snack. I listened while they ordered, one woman asking the girl behind the counter if these apples would taste like American apples. The girl replied that she had no idea, as she had never been to the US. The woman seemed genuinely shocked and responded “well that’s too bad.”

I waited until the group departed before placing my order. When the transaction was complete, I told the girl, that, on behalf of Americans that don’t suck, I was sorry she had to experience that.

She gave me a free apple.