Estonia

The Ugly American Visits Estonia

Take it from your old pal TUA: Nobody in Europe has a sense of humor.

I'm in Tallinn, Capital City of Estonia and formerly part of the Soviet Union. It's the beginning of the tourist season here and I'm already in deep borscht with the populace. It all started during one of those group walking tours when I jokingly said to our guide, "Admit it. You really miss those good old commies, collectivization and shit, don'cha?"

She gave me a glare that could cut red iron, pardon the pun, and seeing that she didn't see the good-natured irony in my comment I quickly recovered by saying "I kid, of course. I know you don't miss those bastards any more than we Americans miss the fucking redcoats!"

Which upset the numerous tourists in our group who happened to hail from the UK. After they had finished pummeling me about the head and neck, I decided I'd had enough of the walking tour and slunk away to an outdoor café for some liquid refreshment, where I proceeded to jocularly hold forth about the hypersensitivity of my former tour companions.

This proved to be a mistake.

"I thought the British had a sense of humor. I mean, I've seen every episode of The Benny Hill Show, so what the hell is going on? Can't they take a joke? Christ, they're almost as bad as those stick-up-the-ass French!"

Unfortunately, the two French couples at the next table took considerable umbrage at my mock tirade and before I could say sacre bleu they had set upon me, leaving some very nasty welts. They certainly wore a lot of jewelry, particularly rings. Ouch!

However, when dealing with foreigners, TUA knows that the one thing you cannot do is appear vulnerable otherwise you are lost. Look at Poland. So I immediately got up, dusted myself off and, in defiance, berated them thusly:

"Frog pussies! That didn't hurt a damn bit! If it weren't for us Americans, you'd be speaking fucking German! Hell, the Italians would have kicked your ass if their truck hadn't broke down! Go watch a Jerry Lewis movie and ... and .. I don't know, flambé something! Stuck-up pricks!"

Now I was getting dirty looks from four other tables. I'm guessing the people at one of the tables were Italians because they looked kind of like Mexicans, only wealthier. The others must have been Germans because the men were all wearing suspenders and drinking beer and their wives were built like linebackers.

Italians, I thought, must have a sense of humor. I'd seen Moonstruck, Analyze This, Laverne and Shirley. I asked them what branch of the Mafia they were with and got nothing but cold, hard stares. Perhaps that hit too close to home, and I didn't want my legs broken. I wasn't even going to try and start up with the Germans! Those kraut dames looked big enough to go bear hunting with a switch, and besides, everybody knows the Germans have no sense of humor. The Nazis on Hogan's Heroes never laughed, except when they were getting ready to interrogate somebody. I just whipped them a straight-armed salute and a quick Sieg Heil and went on my way. No sense getting them pissed off at me as well.

Our captain told me that he thought it would be best if I spent the remainder of my time on the ship. He had said the same thing to me in Spain after I went into a so-called "genuine" Spanish restaurant and made a fuss. Hey, I was entitled. They didn't have enchiladas on the menu! That's as Spanish as you can get, isn't it? No tacos either, and you can bet I called their asses on it!

OK, I'm through. Next stop is England. At least they speak English there, even if it's with that stupid faggy foreign accent that makes them all sound like Paul fucking McCartney. I'll have to ask them about that when I get there, and also about why they drink that nasty tea shit instead of good old American coffee and why they still have a freaking figure-head Queen and their food sucks so bad.

All in good humor, of course.

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