Good Bless America!

I am very excited because my partner/fiance's oldest, most wonderful friend from America is coming to stay! And he's going to be here for my 40 something birthday! Now, they met at our University but I bypassed the yank by a year. He had the sense to get out before I arrived! We chat on the phone and occasionally on Skype but this man has put the "W" in Washington and  I can't wait to hug that man!  And without a doubt I love the USA, cousins live in California and close friends are scattered throughout the Land of Stars and Stripes, but having lived in Connecticut in my early thirties, all I can say is God Bless Blighty!
 I have never felt so English until I hit the Eastern Board: the Pilgrim Shores.  Waves of endless water separated me from my "Motherland" and definite language nuances prevented me from entering the local country club ( sorry but thank the Lord) : I had arrived in Darien, Connecticut and they didn't speak my lingo.
"Do you ride?"  Well, I was sure that that was a personal question but after a slight delay of panic, I answered: "Not since 15".  I began to hyperventilate slightly, as it was my first invitation into Darien society and  I did not want to make a huge blunder.  Did "ride" mean the same to the Americans as English English or Irish English ? Now I was worried that I had ONE: admitted to being under-age when I had taken my first "ride",  TWO:  had now acknowledged, since 15, I had been a sexual recluse  or THREE, please let it be three I thought , had developed an allergy to horses so I couldn't have ridden since 15!  It was number three and I had passed the first test albeit with "Oh, she doesn't".  Lots of sad shakes of the head, as if I was some moron.
Next was the question of tennis.  A small amount of bile rose into my mouth. I didn't recognise one end of a bat - was it a bat? - from the other, beads of sweat broke out upon my forehead.  "Wimbledon, Agassi, Prince!" From whence those words had come I did not know but they saved me from complete humiliation and another test had been passed.
I felt I was home and dry,  That was until  I was asked if I did "sitting".  What the flipping heck was "sitting"?  Dressed in my torn jeans, biker boots and leather jacket, I wondered if this was some new exercise craze or maybe some new sub-culture.  Nope apparently, I had been mistaken for a "nanny" and I was so pleased.
"Oh no, I'm a mum or mom but I'm really  pleased you think I look so young," I said absolutely delighted that these people thought I looked so youthful.
"Oh My God!  No, it's the clothes you wear and your nails and your hair and your....."
I listened deflated.  I had not assimilated into Stepford Wives.  "What the hell," I thought, !" West Coast here I come!"