The Day I Choked at the London Marathon

To an American, reading that heading, it sounds like I was actually running IN the London marathon and that I choked (aka failed).  Now don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I couldn’t run it if I wanted to, but I just have never actually wanted to. *grin*

CHOKE – Informal – to fail to achieve something, especially because you lose confidence.

American English synonyms or related words for this sense of choke

To fail, or to stop being successful: to go tits-up, fail, flounder, languish, backfire, fizzle,

miss, collapse, flop, crash

Oh no, this was something entirely different, indeed.

It was during one of the first marathons they ran, maybe year two or three, yes a long time ago.  I was at that time a regular programme seller at Chelsea Football Club and for some reason, we were asked to sell programmes at the London Marathon.  I thought it weird at the time that anyone would want to pay £5 for a book of what basically was a long list of names of people you’ve never heard of.  In hindsight though, I realize that if you were actually in a marathon, you might want a programme so you could show you did something with your life.  A souvenir of the day, if you will, aside from the blisters and shiny tin foil blanket you get at the end of the race (if you make it to the end of the race, that is)

Anyhoo, I had been wandering around all morning selling my wares when a few of us got together and decided to stop for a quick bite to eat.  (Translation, we were going to eat the packed lunches we took with us).   Now you should remember this was quite a while ago, long before those fancy insulated lunch boxes were invented so our sandwiches were probably squashed at the bottom of a duffle bag with a leaky bottle of coke.  But who cares when you’re starving, eh?  I remember very clearly though that I had a Viscount mint chocolate biscuit.  That was a mistake I still regret to this day….  

These are made by the Devil

I think we were standing across the street from Kings Cross Station and we were next to a boarded up construction site.  It’s not actually necessary for you to know that, nor part of the story, but I remember it with such clarity it’s like it all happened yesterday.  I had eaten my sarnies and bit into my Viscount and for some reason, I managed to get most of the biscuit in one bite.  No problem, you say, just chew it a bit.  But that’s the problem right there… I actually swallowed the thing practically whole.  And what happens when you try and swallow something that doesn’t fit?  Yes, it gets stuck. And did it get stuck…. Crikey, that thing got wedged in my throat sideways and I could not get it moved either up or down.  Try as I might, I could not swallow.

You have to remember, I was young, I was with lads who I only ever saw on a Saturday for a couple of hours and I was British – so I wasn’t going to make a fuss.  So what was a girl to do?  I wasn’t going to ask for help from basically strangers.  So I stood there, choking and turning blue, trying my best to clear the blockage by swallowing and coughing and not one of those blooming boys even glanced in my direction and even if they had, I’m sure they would have looked away just as quickly. You know how boys are!

So as I was choking for what seemed like three hours, by some miracle, something happened that dislodged the biscuit.  I think the chocolate perhaps melted, but I was able to swallow the entire piece. Mind you, it felt like I was swallowing a 2 by 4.

How embarrassing would this have been?

I have never been so relieved.  I would say my life flashed before my eyes, but it really didn’t, I was far to embarrassed for that.  I can just remember thinking “I’m going to choke to death and these boys don’t care!”  Obviously, once I’d swallowed that devil’s biscuit and realized that my throat was not in fact bleeding and torn I carried on as if nothing had happened.  Because, well, stiff upper lip and all that.  I didn’t mention it, they didn’t mention it and to this day, I don’t know whether anyone saw what was happening.  But I tell you what, my throat was sore for about a fortnight and I’ve never eaten one of those biscuits again!

Gambling - A Great British Tradition?

The very first time we came to America to have a look at what we were getting ourselves into, my dad took us to Las Vegas – of course! Everyone has to experience Vegas at least once in their life. It was all very exiting!

So there we were, all packed into the car like sardines yet again, when we decided to stop for a late lunch at Stateline.  Now, as we came over the hill, I thought we were actually in Vegas – all I could see were casinos and lights.  But apparently not, Stateline is just a little teaser of what’s to come.

The buffet was calling our name and there was quite a wait, but hey, we were in a real casino so let’s gamble…. Or at least let’s feed a few pennies into a fruit machine.

So while the others were queuing up, I tootled off to the closest machine and began shoving quarters in one at a time.  A couple of minutes later, I hit it big…. Well, okay, I won about $50.  Nice - or it was, until I was suddenly surrounded by security guards.  Hmm… it turns out you can’t have a child in a Casino, or at least not next to the machines.  I was grilled as to who had put the money in the slot and why my son was with me (he had followed me over to the machine).  It was a wonderful introduction to the American world of gambling, I must say.  I think they only relented and let me keep the money because I was a tourist!  I sheepishly collected my winnings and did the walk of shame back to the family.  *sigh* They told me during lunch that if I’d put three quarters in at the same time, I could have won a bundle… but try explaining that to the security guards – I was happy to settle for the $50.

Although gambling is legal under US federal law, Nevada and Lousiana are the only states where casinos are legal statewide.  Other states have laws which restrict gambling to small geographic areas or to American Indian reservations. [Wikipedia.org] If you want to gamble, you have to really, really want to gamble because you will have to travel quite a distance (unless you already live in Vegas, of course).  The laws are extremely strict and heaven forbid if you’re under 21 and are caught trying to gamble or even walk into a casino on your own.  Gambling is a bit taboo in the US, mummies (or mommies) wouldn't dare let their child gamble - it's a big no-no, as if they will immediately be on the slippery slope to Gamblers Anonymous!

It’s a far cry from growing up in England where every seaside pier has an arcade choc-a-block with fruit machines, every pub and most chip shops have them too.  And anyone can play.  Here’s an example - my four year old nephew gambling away his pocket money in Brighton.

A big no-no in America

This is just something we do.  Growing up, if we knew we were going to the seaside, we would save all our 1p’s, 2p’s and 5p’s so we could go on the pier and – shock horror – gamble.  And blimey, us Brits gamble on anything – Horse racing, football scores, the elections, the weather, a white Christmas… you name it, and we’ll bet on it.  You can even see grannies having a flutter on the Grand National every year - its an English tradition.  Every corner has either a pub, a newsagents, a chippy or a betting shop.  A good Saturday night out for us was going to Wimbledon Stadium for the greyhound racing and letting my son pick the winners (or at least try to) and nobody worried about it!

Come on 6......

Although, there was that one time…..

I had been asked to put some money on a horse and went to the bookies with my 3 year old in tow. We were just in time for the race to begin so we stayed to watch.  To my utmost horror my son decided at that moment to stand on a chair and shout “Come on 6… Come on 6….” at the top of his voice, a result of  too many trips to Wimbledon, possibly.  The old fuddy duddies in the shop were not best pleased and we were asked to leave.  And once again I had to do the walk of shame…..  [is it just me or is this becoming a regular thing?]

Toilet Humour - A Letter to America

Dear America,

 

Something has been bothering me for a while now.  Why are your toilets so low to the ground?  And why, oh why, is the gap under the door so big?  That gap is huge for heaven's sake!  I’m sure other people using the toilets can see my knees - it’s very unnerving.  I don’t want complete strangers to see all my unmentionables.  [And I won't even mention the gaps around the door]

 

The first restaurant toilet (or restroom) I ever used in the USA was an experience, to say the least.  First of all, it was all fancy and had wallpaper and dimmed lights, very soothing.  Then there were the toilet seat covers.  Wow, a little cover to put on the seat, how very civilized.  

 

But then I went to sit down… Oh, it was so very low.  I fell so fast I firmly hit my bum on the seat and I think my derriere nearly hit the water.  What a shock – I think my feet came off the floor too!  Nobody warned me that the toilets were so low.  Now I see why you have the seat covers – you can’t do the “squat” that we ladies have all perfected in England, you have to sit on a public seat.  Eeeww.  And with your knees up to your chin no less!   

[I tried the squat a few times and trust me, unless you're a gymnast with legs of steel, the toilets are way too low for you to hold that squat long enough to completely empty your bladder] 

You can see my knees!

So obviously, I inevitably went back to England for a visit and totally forgot how high the toilets were over there.  I did the whole thing in reverse and ended up on the seat with a thud and Oh Good Grief… they don’t have seat covers!!!  

 

So thank you, thank you America for making me all germophobic and paranoid.  I’m beginning to feel like I should take a tape measure into the toilet with me so I can measure the height before I sit.

 

Yours faithfully,

TheGobbyBrit

Which way round?

P.S.  Oh, by the way, which way around does the toilet seat cover go?  Does the little flap thingy go in the back or in the front??  After 20 years, I still can’t figure it out.