Today I dropped my son off in England for summer school. As background you need to know that he has lived in brand-new-out-of-the-shrinkwrap American suburbs all of his life. So it was funny to me to see the look on his face when he was told at the college that his dorm room elevator was broken and might not be fixed for at least a month. The "WTF?" look was priceless. I could see him thinking that a one hour outage of infrastructure would be something to comment on back home, but a month??
But the really funny part was when the Dean asked him to check his rooming envelope to see his room number, and he realized the implication of the three digit number that started with "7." As with most teenage boys, he wanted me gone anyway ASAP, and I was happy to leave him to his independence and avoid the trudge up to his room. After I left, he still had a small voyage of discovery as he learns that "floor 7" in England is actually euqivilent to "floor 8" in the US.