Anglophillia

I've always liked Britain. I've only been there once and it was for a week, but I would love to return. London is the only place in the world besides New York in which I can see myself living. And today was one of those days that made me want to pack up and move.
I woke at 7, and decided that since I was up anyway, I might as well go for a run. So I get dressed and head out. The streets are much emptier than usual and it's cool out. Perfect running conditions. I run west along Broadway, and the only people I encounter are middle aged men shuffling back and forth from various bodegas. Each and everyone one of them has to make some comment about me. I guess most of them are supposed to be complimentary: I got called "beautiful" at least 6 times. When I was in high school and ran track, we used to give the finger to any cars that honked at us. It was extremely satisfying, but being by myself in the ghetto, I don't feel quite as comfortable. When some fucking idiot stopped and stared at me for the billioneth time, I finally did give him the finger, and he continued to stare at me for an entire block. Retard. I just hate feeling victimized and objectified and bothered. Leave me the fuck alone.
I was supposed to teach swimming this afternoon, and decided to make the 10 minute walk to the L train, which I thought would be faster. Noooo. The train was running in two sections, which meant that I had to wait at the Bedford stop for 15 minutes for the train that would go into Manhattan. The train was so crowded that I was so pressed up against a woman so close she was exhaling onto my face. She also had chest hair, which I wish I didn't know about. Another 5 waiting for the 6 train and I was ridiculously late. On the 6 train, I got to hear a conversation between two players (I use the term loosely) about getting their mack on. I couldn't quite understand if their conversation was pro or anti hitting women, but one of them kept saying that something was "rude, son." I wanted to tell them that what was really rude was standing directly in front of the car doors so no one could get into the car, but I refrained. They also discussed women getting molested on the subway and how a real mack gets girls phone numbers and doesn't have to ask for them.
For the last few days thinking about how London has been dealing with their terrorist attacks. For the past four years it seems as if as a country we've been running around, screaming and pulling our hair out. Or at least by putting bumper stickers on our cars and flags in our lapels. I thought this was how a city (a country) mourns, but looking at Britains's example, I realize that it's possible to be civilized and decourous in the face of tragedy.
Also did I mention that the London Underground has these signs on the platform that tell how many minutes until the next train comes?