Conversely, I have rarely been so persistently not asked about my alienness as I was yesterday when I was out running errands. A stop at Lush was among these; that it was the Covent Garden one, tourist central, didn't help. All three of the staff members who at one point or another briefly talked to me presumed I was a transient alien. It's quite a reasonable assumption, given my accent.
I stood indecisively by the facial scrubs, trying to decide if I really wanted to buy more Ocean Salt or not. I wasn't entirely out yet. "You should consider whether or not you can get more of it easily when you do run out." said the sales assistant. "I can." "It's not too inconvenient for you to get more of it?" "No." "If sourcing it is going to be a problem, you might want to buy more now." "No, really, it won't be." And so on. Entire, brief conversations. Three of them.
So clearly, since I am so obviously a transient alien, I should embrace this status for the purpose of casual shopping trips. To enhance this, I need to be prepared with appropriate repartee. Since sarcasm is obviously such an American trait, a few appropriately reinforcing sarcastic remarks wouldn't go amiss either. Sadly, for all my good misleading intentions, my mind is blank of actual exemplary remarks.