I was standing in the grocery store contemplating a shelf of spices in identical packaging when a woman who'd crept up behind me said in an even tone, "MOVE." I looked at her and the heaped cart of plastic-wrapped meat and slunk out of the way. It reminded me of a story my friend who'd lived in England for a few years shared: She'd been in a similar grocery store daze and a woman who snuck up on her said, "What are you waiting for, the blast of a trumpet?" (You have to imagine that last part in an English accent.) I've never been to England, but her story endeared the country to me. They're pleasant even when being rude.