Dear America,

Hi. It’s the rest of the world here. You’ve probably heard of us. The 38 percent of you who have a passport might even know us, at least a little.

We know you a little, too. You tend to visit us this time of year. You’re making more and more trips abroad, in fact, and by now we like to think we’re pretty good at picking you out of a crowd.

“Look,” we tell our youngsters, “do you see those plump people in pajamas with their pizza and their water bottles, noisily urging passers-by to drink shots with them while insisting they’re all out of cash?

“They, my children, they are the Americans.”

“Their faces,” wonders one of our compatriots. “They’re so…muscular. And that large-hipped physique is strangely…sexy.”

“Must they be so very loud?” murmurs another.

“It’s their culture,” we reliably inform them. “Their collective sense of confidence is literally deafening.”

“They smell funny!” some of our less polite citizens interject.

“Yes, they do,” we reply. “That smell: it is of freedom.”

“But… but it’s been raining all day. Why do none of them have umbrellas?” a puzzled little one inquires from under the sanctuary of her brolly.

And that — that — we cannot answer.

Love,
The World

By Jessica Phelan, GlobalPost
This article is syndicated from GlobalPost.