Today while I was sitting in my car on my lunch break, reading and eating a half-frozen banana, I decided that I'm going to behave in a more European manner. Of course, since I've never actually been to Europe and have only met about seven Europeans in my life (I'm not going to include Russians; I don't think they count), I'll have to rely on my American sensibilities to interpret what exactly it means to act European.

I have to admit that even though I love American culture -- especially pop culture -- I already have a pretty good head start on this European routine. For example, I make frequent trips to the grocery store ... [ahem] market throughout the week, carrying a basket instead of pushing a cart. I take four or five weeks of vacation a year. I rarely, if ever, wear deodorant. And as a matter of fact, as I am writing this post, I'm drinking a warm beer.

Now, there are some European things that I am not willing to do. For example, I'm not going to chain-smoke hand-rolled cigarettes while wearing a Speedo. I refuse to have a threeway with two catatonic stewardesses. I don't want to watch black-and-white movies where all people do is cry and walk in and out of doors.

Speaking of movies ... [ahem] films, I've always loved that scene in La Dolce Vita where there's that party, and everyone is laughing uncontrollably, and that drunk woman tries to crawl to the bathroom or whatever, and that guy decides to jump on her back and ride her around the room, whipping her butt with a belt. That was seriously European. So European that as an American I don't even understand it. And while I don't think I'd ride around a living room on a drunk woman's back, I know for certain that if someone else did it, I'd stand there wearing sunglasses and a white suit and laugh like a donkey.

There are plenty of European things I wish I could do, but can't. I'd really like to eat my lunch on the patio at a quaint cafe, drink a bottle and a half of wine with my linguine, and then decide not to return to work. Ain't gonna happen. I'd like to be able to drive through three countries on one tank of gas. I wouldn't mind living in a house that's 800 years old. As an American in northern Minnesota, the best I can hope for in these regards is to live in a house built before World War II, occasionally drive to Canada, and attempt to drink a bottle of Miller High Life on the sidewalk outside the Kozy Bar without getting knifed in the sternum.

I'm not sure exactly how I'm going to take my Europeanism to the next level. I think maybe I'll start out by doing a lot of sneering. Then perhaps I'll take it upon myself to eat a better grade of cheese. Maybe someday I'll get a passport.

[ahem] ... papers.