I was once in the middle of nowhere in Switzerland. Like some of the most idyllic and remote places in the country. i went to a gas station with a little shop. Even the gas station shop was 70% goods from around the place. There was only me and a big camper. There was an older guy in there, the camper guy. He looked at me and said: hah, fuck the yankees. I was like: excuse me? He pointed at my hat, and i said i don’t care about baseball, or football(?) it’s a fashion accessory. He kept on ranbling about the last season. Then he was asking the cashier for random things like coca cola and slim jims or whatever. The older cashier was just shrugging at him, because all she spoke was dialect. I told him that they don’t have anything like that here, and people, especially older people don’t speak english here. He was very angry and stomped out like a little child. I met some very nice (almost too nice) americans, but that’s what people think when they think about your average murican.