On a golf trip to Turkey’s terrific Belek region I was unfortunate to be traveling with the quintessential “ugly American.” If our hosts took us to the famous fish restaurant, she was in the mood for meat and asked for it. The next day, when we were entertained at the famous kabob restaurant, she wondered if they didn’t have any fish. If someone else’s room was higher than hers in the hotel she complained to the front desk. On tours, as soon as our guide finished explaining something, she’d ask a question that he’d just answered. And at one golf course, she actually told the pro that he should give our group of journalists gifts so we’d be sure to remember his property. Being the most gracious of hosts, the Turks never let on that she was anything other than reasonable. I learned from this to be grateful for everything that I’m lucky enough to be given, and also that it’s okay to want to punch a woman in the face.
Ugly American, the Male of the Species.
