Dear Chinny,

When I met you it was simply because I was chasing a summer romance that the winter weather had long frozen over. I had landed in Preston, a town I had no idea existed until I was at its doorstep, all to visit a guy I shouldn’t have. After our dramatic falling out that ended with me in tears and him in despair, I thought I would write the whole trip off as a disaster. That is, until, on the flight back home I realized that while I had lost a lover, I had gained a friend. And a Liverpool fan at that. 

First impressions are funny. I’m curious what you thought of me as I stumbled into your house after your roommate. Here we were, just a few days before your twenty first birthday and some random girl from California was going to be crashing in your flat for a few days. I had no idea who you were, and I’m pretty sure I was a stranger to you as well. The guy I had come for hadn’t told me he had roommates, let alone four of them. It took me by surprise, but in my attempt to be a good guest, I was trying my best to be friendly and charming to everyone. 

You made it so easy to be your friend. With your blond hari, long lanky frame and constant wit, it was easy to see why you are everyones favorite character. Funny and quirky, conversations with you quickly became my favorite part of the trip. I never would have thought that the greatest part of traveling England would be sitting in a crammed, never clean kitchen, in a flat of five university guys, reading facts about bees and elephants. It still makes me laugh thinking about it. You are the first person I’ve had the pleasure of meeting that knows more about Liverpool FC than I do. You are a football fiend with a not too shabby touch to boot. We were ment to be friends on this factor alone.

I was a fish out of water in that flat in Preston. But it was on your birthday when you and your friends taught me how to get over a heart break. You taught me that there are shortcuts to happiness, and that dancing is one of them. 

I was heartbroken over the boy I had come to visit. As you know, he had a girlfriend whom he disappeared off with during our trip to the clubs in Liverpool. So, there I was, lost and abandoned by him, tagging along with a group that I was never invited to join from the start. I was alone. I didn’t know you very well yet, and had met your friends just a few hours earlier. I was a stranger who crashed the party. But you and your friends spent the night dancing my blues away. From your classic disco moves to the banter throughout the night, you made me forget the guy I had come for, and enjoy being a part of you and your friends. 

But that was just the beginning. Flash forward to a few days later, when with zero desire to sleep on the floor of that guy’s room with him and his girlfriend, I found myself sleeping in the front room with you and all your friends. There must have been eight of us cramped in there on couches and chairs (thank you a million for getting me an air mattress, I easily had the best sleep of anyone in that room). It was the first of our slumber parties that would go on for a few more days before I had to head home to California. 

And what slumber parties they were. You took it upon yourself to show me British culture in its purest form, that is, through the Inbetweeners. The next two days were spent staying up till four in the morning, binge watching awkward british teens attempting to figure out the world. There were cups of tea and perfect accents. What could be more British than that?

To my friends back home, it might seem crazy to travel 5,000 miles to end up in a completely ordinary, unspectacular front room, watching TV. But the conversations over cultural differences and the laughs that were shared are worth a million pictures in front of the London Eye or Buckingham Palace. I’ve seen the sights and ten years from now I won’t remember them. But I will always remember our disco moves on a Wednesday night in the warehouse. 

So Chinny, next time we are sitting around a table, it won’t be to eat that horrible meal you call an English Breakfast. It will be somewhere in California where we can discuss the tactics of Liverpool and repeat inbetweeners lines till four in the morning. 

Xoxo,

L