- The Washington Times - Tuesday, July 18, 2006

My roommate is British. She’s great, and I’ve enjoyed learning things about the UK that you can’t get out of a history class. But as much as I enjoy her company, going places with her in public is starting to resemble the classic broken record clich.

Everywhere we go, we have to plan for at least an extra 10 minutes, just in case.

It’s not that she’s slow, but that American boys seem to like girls with British accents.

Some of them are better at disguising it than others.

Some ask her to say phrases like “bloody hell” or “blimey mate,” while others babble continuously for up to 30 minutes about the amazing British soccer team. (Guys, she might appreciate your status as a fan a little more if you call it football … )

My favorite suitor was the one at a bar who casually “dropped” a piece of paper in her purse.

This piece of paper just happened to have his name and phone number on it. She thought she’d gotten rid of him, but then two weeks later, she saw him on the Metro. And hid.

So while the rest of the DC interns will return home at the end of the summer with an addition for their resumes, contact information for potential employers, souvenirs, and pictures in front of the monuments, my roommate will also return home with a huge stash of phone numbers.

Alison Hoover is a member of the Tufts University Class of 2008.

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