There were so many memorable parts of my trip to the UK. Of course, at the top of the list was the very wonderful Alfie Boe whose luscious voice resonates within me each and every day. Alfie delighted concert goers with a delightful range of music genres that featured songs such as the operatic Nessun Dorma and the rockin’ Glory Glory Hallelujah! The British tenor is the hero of my existence these days. However, not even Alfie could solve a simple problem for me: ice!
Who knew that something so basic in the United States could be so foreign in the United Kingdom. I was totally floored by the UK’s prejudice against this simple, low-cost, beverage temperature controlling device. It’s ice! Ice, for crying out loud.
In America, ice is common place. It’s a given most of the time. You ask for a soft drink, you get it … with ice. It’s cold or at the very least, chilled. Chilled as in noticeably cool to the touch and the taste buds. I would have thought that was universal in other modern worlds. Boy was I wrong.
My previously taken-for-granted ice is essentially ignored in the UK, snubbed even. The first time I received a drink without ice, I was stunned. Naturally, I immediately asked for ice. I got it, all three cubes. Uh, no, I said I’d like ice … a glass of ice, please. Oh geez. Two more cubes. No, I want ice … A GLASS OF ICE, PLEASE. Gee whiz! What’s the problem here?
Seriously, it got to where I had to state it about three times, very definitively: I want ice, lots of ice. I’m from America. We like ice. Fill the glass. Fill the *entire* glass with ice. Sigh — five little cubes. No, really, FILL THE ENTIRE GLASS WITH ICE!
It sounds crazy, but it pretty much was like that everywhere. Worse: hotel and motel rooms. Oh my goodness. Here, you get ice bins on every other floor, if not more. You can call room service and have ice buckets delivered even. In Britain, you have to work for your ice. First, you have to beg the restaurant or the bar (and more often than not it’s the bar) for a large pitcher of ice. Buckets are hard to come by, but some have them. In other places, it was more of a challenge. Once, I had them give me three pint-sized glasses of ice. Second, you still have to convince them to actually fill up the container with ice and not just scatter a few ice cubes in it. Third, you have to lug it up to your room on your own.
I kept telling servers, “I’m American. I need ice. Fill the glass up with ice, please,” and more often than not, I’d still get just three cubes. I’m not sure why they couldn’t understand simple English. I realize we don’t use their ‘u’s with the same frequency, that I use elevators, not lifts, and that I’m the one with the accent while on their turf, but what is so hard to understand about, “Please fill the entire glass up with ice,” especially when accompanied by a visual representation with my hands and often a story about how I haven’t received a full glass in the past?
Ugh! There is just no denying that the UK is prejudiced against ice and perhaps just the concept itself of enjoying a cool soda. Even when you try to buy a refrigerated drink, you get this oddly unchilled, but supposedly chilled bottle. Dig your way to the very back of the bottles and still, the bottles are not truly chilled and definitely are not cold. They just don’t understand the concept of a cool beverage.
I will remember my trip to the UK mainly for wonderful Alfie Boe who made me smile every time he said my name. The thrill of realizing he really knew who I was upon sight without being told makes my heart sing. Of course, he’ll forget me now that I’m not part of his almost daily routine which I was for two weeks, but what joy it was to have him see me, smile, and say my name as only Alfie does (seriously, he says my name in his own way and I love it). Close to the top of other things I doubt I’ll ever forget, though, is how hard it was to get a decent cup of ice in Alfie’s homeland. Man, it was hard work.
At the very last hotel, in the wee hours of the morning just after the Boe buses had departed at the tour’s end, I asked for a bucket of ice. The male staff member was also a foreigner. He said he got it, but still started to give me a sub-par bucket. As I told my story of England’s ice prejudice, there was laughter. Another Brit staff member was laughing and laughing hard. He got it. He understood perfectly. It was my last on the road giggled frustration over ice. The final laugh actually occurred at the home of my friend, Annie.
Now Annie is a saint. She endured my quirks and emotional swings for nearly three weeks and survived! At any rate, when we returned to her house the night before my departure, she looked in her refrigerator and there was an actual bag of ice, apparently purchased by one of her sons who likes smoothies. Its very presence evoked laughter!
Ah, England: ice! Give it a try! It’s not a bad thing, really! Cold drinks are … cold and that’s a really wonderful thing! :}
I just returned from the trip of a lifetime, a 2 1/2 week excursion to the United Kingdom to take in Alfie Boe’s Arena Tour. Getting there was an accomplishment in itself, but I did it, thanks to two very special ladies who made it all possible.
In the course of driving around England, Scotland, and Wales, several things earned raves, rants, and neutral indifferences. Over the next bit of time, I’m going to be writing short little bits about this journey. You can expect to hear about Alfie, of course, and odd things such as ice. Bigger subjects such as help for the disabled and handling of customer service and promotional situations will also be mentioned, primarily with respects to Gigs and Tours and SJM Concerts that handled the tickets and ‘VIP’ portion of the tour for fans.
Tune in if you’re curious. It’s just my ramblings, the good and the bad, about what I learned and experienced over the past few weeks and in some cases how it compares to the United States. One thing that is a given: Alfie Boe is a fighter and the consummate performer. There is no one who gives what he gives during a performance and who delights so much at interacting with his fans. He’s a nice guy, too, and put all of that together, and you have a sensational artist giving us all a sensational series of shows!
Love Those Rants and Raves 