London Times

I returned to London for the first time in twenty years this week, and once again remain fascinated by how two people can reconstruct a common language into uncommon idioms.

Linguistically, Americans and Brits resemble children who use the same set of Lego blocks to build identical toy towers with different colors. The accidental tourist may find just as much amusement reading and listening as he or she can have by seeing the sites.

I should note that the sites themselves are sometimes misnomers--the Tower of London is more castle than a tall structure, but that comes from a 21st century perspective of someone who worked in skyscrapers rather than that of the 11th century peasants toiling beneath it.

First, a common mistake is to assume that everyone in Britain speaks English at all. Walk within St. James Park and try to ask fellow tourists to take your picture standing next to points of interest or geese (which frankly are more numerous). Be prepared for blank stares or confused glances by Bulgarians on their first holiday.

Second, the British are both polite and helpful to the extreme, which might explain why they relentlessly warn about multiple hidden damages at every opportunity. Mind the Gap seems to be a national anthem, drilled repeatedly during all stops on the Tube. Mind the Stairs or Mind the Bump are close behind

The idea that we can avoid these dangers just by using our minds a little bit is both positive and refreshing, especially for confused or distracted Americans still trying to figure out why cars are traveling on the wrong side of the road.

Three, flat American accents fail to do justice to certain words that seem to flow much more naturally from the mouths of Brits, such as mad, lovely, rubbish, or my particular favorite, brilliant.

The names of several Underground stations also fascinated me. Members of Monty Python didn't need to look far for inspiration traveling beneath a city that features stops named Mudchute, Blackfriars, Cockfosters, Marylebone, and Goodge Street. I was tempted to travel to Elephant & Castle just to see what I might find there.

I particularly admire the apparently aesthetic bureaucrat who determined that signs near railway tracks should carry the warning Do Not Alight as if the average man or woman hovers near trains like a butterfly.

I was disappointed to learn that one of my favorite signs has disappeared from the London Underground. The British use the term Way Out as a substitute for Exit. The last time I visited London I admit I did experience a sense of disorientation for a few days until I realized the No Way Out signs simply meant No Exit, rather than a philosophical statement somewhat aligned with Sartre.

One station attendant told me that the Public Transport people took out all the No Way Out signs one night and replaced them with No Exit signs sometime ago. A sad moment for the lovers of irony everywhere.