Mes Dépêches

I waved frantically, “Excuse me, sir! You’re my driver!”

But the pleas were for naught as my first Uber driver upon moving here, at Heathrow’s Terminal 2, caught my glance, and with a face reflecting some mix of confusion and panic, scurried on.

Wander into an empty restaurant here and the host, overwhelmed by a walk-in – “no reservation?!”, will generally tell you they’re full. Want the check? Good luck, even standing on the table, draped in the teary-eyed revolutionary zeal of Cromwell himself, screaming to the heavens: “Mon dieu! L’addition, s’il vous plait!”

I’ve tried.

And let’s not start with left-side driving or the nation’s eternal indecision between Celsius and Fahrenheit.

Perhaps that is my take on London, and the uneasy consolidation of countries that begrudgingly hosts her, in my time thus far as an expatriate — confusion permeates every facet of life here.

Make no question, London is the most livable city on earth. Sure it rains, but those rare sunny skies reignite the fire of a lapsed faith. While New Yorkers are lulled to sleep by a cacophony of car horns, the Albert Bridge (far prettier than its more famous cousins downriver) is so peaceful you can often walk down the center of the road. And as for her most direct competitor, Paris? Well maybe the French should learn to smile.

But Britain is well beyond her greatest era and arguably now in the postscript of a fairly decent one, shuffling about while waiting to be told what comes next, by a man who, in keeping with the theme of confusion, routinely forgets to brush his hair.

In fairness, Boris Johnson is shrewd, and I can’t say I dislike the guy, just as it would be difficult to muster a strongly negative emotion toward Andy Griffith’s drunk buddy Otis. Brits share my confusion, unable to despise an affable klutz, even if he changes his mind on every decision, regardless of substance – “I will not fire the minister. He’s fired!” “Christmas is saved! Christmas is canceled.” – has presided over one of the world’s most challenged, and costly, responses to the Covid pandemic, and somehow convinced the country to self-immolate in the 2016 Brexit referendum.

Ostensibly a conservative, Boris continues to push government-enforced, expensive lockdowns as the only allowable response to Covid, as the country’s beloved National Health Service proved one of the world’s least prepared for a pandemic.

In summary, a political platform to cut government costs led to a continual reduction in hospital beds since the 1980s, which now necessitates lockdowns to keep Covid from overwhelming said hospitals, which in turn requires incurring generation-losing debts to keep the broader economy from collapsing.

There’s a saying about cutting noses and spiting faces that may fit.

Thus, in confused Britain, a conservative party is single-handedly creating the world’s preeminent debt-drowned, liberal nanny state in response to its own efforts to, presumably, accomplish the opposite.

But make no mistake, of all the confusion here, Brexit tops the list. Margaret Thatcher’s euro currency skepticism toppled the Iron Lady’s reign, but in hindsight gave the UK the best of all worlds – frictionless trade for shipping British goods across the European continent while maintaining the broad fiscal powers that come with controlling one’s own currency.

Britain’s positioning between the United States and a united Europe, and the different flavors of special relationship it possessed with each, gave the former empire a modern purpose. London’s 1980s resurgence from decades of postwar economic decline was inextricably tied to this perfect placement between the powers, giving it the ability to argue with a straight face that it was on par with New York as a financial capital.

But no longer.

What is “special” about a standalone country with no continental influence? Why deal with London bankers if their territory ends at the Channel, as opposed to those in Amsterdam that pitch without borders?

What was the goal of Brexiteers? That’s unclear. Admitting you voted Leave seems about as popular as calling yourself a fan of Hoobastank, odd since apparently over half the country did. Maybe the ballots were confusing? David Cameron’s advocacy for the Remain side, as rousing as a doctoral thesis, surely was.

And what of the United Kingdom? With the inter-Irish border problematic again, it’s surely only a matter of time before the UK shrinks to become Great Britain, and with a climb in oil prices perhaps Scotland bolts too.

England. Alone, just as she apparently wanted. Or didn’t want. I’m as confused as they are.