How do you say, "Oh shit, It's the po-pos!" in British?

Okay, so as promised, here's last night's adventure...
Started off as a pseudo-normal evening. I was covered in hives (okay, maybe that part's not so normal), and we're in England...okay, this is bullshit. The night started off all screwy from the get-go. I wasn't really feelin' the whole walking into a restaurant looking all jacked up, so the plan was to go drive around aimlessly and sight see, then we'd hit up McDonald's and head back to the room. Perhaps the plan of "hittin' up McDonald's" went a bit too literally because Ric wound up rear ending the guy in front of us while pulling from window A to window B. He only tapped him, but still, homeboy was pissed. How do I know this? Sheer intuition. British people don't get mad. They're too polite. They look furious while they thank you for being concerned about the ass of their car, which you just hit because you're an idiot American. So we get our food, the guy in front of us drives off after realizing his car really is fine (but he still thinks we're idiot Americans), and we pull over to eat. For anyone who is interested, this is a normal sized value meal in the UK...

Isn't it adorable!? Okay, so a quarter pounder is the exact same size, but the fries and drink are what we get in the states with a big kids meal. I find these things to be fascinating. Oh, and as a random diversion from my train of thought here, I just have to say that we are actively doing everything we can to perpetuate the fat American stereotype. Take breakfast, for instance. Everyone else comes down, grabs a plate, goes through the breakfast buffet line, sits down, and begins eating...a piece of toast. Or some grapefruit. Um...REALLY? You have the option of toast, croissants, muffins, eggs scrambled or fried, sausage, bacon, ham, pineapple, grapefruit, melon, four kinds of cereal, and a plethora of other assorted breakfasty items, and all you're going to eat is ah one piece o' toast?! Screw that shit, and get out of my way! There are eggs to be had, dangit!

AAAAAAnyway, we eat our food sitting in the Mickey D's parking lot in the car, and I just realized that there was a cop car next to us while we were eating. My English nerd calls this foreshadowing. So when we're done eating, we decide to do some more driving around York just for S's and G's, and the plan was to head in the direction of York Minster and take some pictures. So here ya go, a bit of York Minster. Forgive the shit quality of the pictures--it was dark, rainy, and out of a car window!

I have no clue what this is, but it was across the street and also pretty, so yeah, took a picture of it, too...

Afterwards, we decided to call it a night and head back to the hotel, and in so doing wound up going down a one way street...going down it the wrong direction, might I add. Naturally, there's a police car directly behind us, and he promptly pulls us over. This is so all the passersby can laugh at the idiot Americans facing the wrong way on the road. From the car comes not one but two officers, the first of whom knocks on the window while the second stands behind the first looking at us disapprovingly. "Sir, this is a one way street," he quips authoritatively as Officer 2 glares on. "Yes sir, I realize that now," Ric says. As soon as the American accent is heard, Officer 2 disappears, laughing her way all the way back to the van. Officer 1 grins like an idiot and asks us where the hell we're trying to go, politely attempts to give us directions back to Tadcaster Road, can't stop laughing, then finally admits defeat and says, "Sir, just follow me and I shall escort you." Don't believe me? Here's our ever so polite escort back to Tadcaster Road...

As we're driving through the city centre walls, we catch the red light, so I decide to take a picture of the walls...hey, if the cop isn't going to get after us for going up a one way the wrong way, I figure he won't object to me blinding other drivers with my camera either...

Now obviously that wasn't the city walls. No, that's the roof of our voltswagen passat, also known as evidence that I can't aim. I thought it was funny, so I kept it. Here's a pic of the city walls, and yes, it's also a bad one, but I wasted most of my picture taking time taking the first shot of the roof of the car, so what do you expect?

Luckily for us, the cops in England are just as polite as everyone else, so we made it back to the hotel safely and with little other hilarity...okay, that's a lie. When the cop went to wave us past him when we got to Tadcaster, I did kind of forget that my window was up and yell, "Thank you!" into the pane of glass--this also got laughs (not that they had quite stopped yet from their first encounter with our idiocy), so yeah, those two police officers will be mocking the idiot Americans for a long time to come! We did at least get back to the hotel alive and none the worse other than some mild embarrassment. Who knows what we'll get into tonight, God help us this weekend, and there's no hope for the week we'll be in Paris and London! Brace yourselves, people!