“It’s the gravity,” I said, sending the cue ball straight into the corner pocket. “It’s all wonky this side of the planet.”
“Sure,” scoffed Graeme, sinking another two reds, “the gravity.”
Luke and I had been looking for a pool table since we got to Europe. We now regretted finding one.
“And the weights,” Luke added. We were playing his uncle and aunt at doubles in a South London pub called the King’s Head (most pubs in the United Kingdom are called the King’s Head).
“Yeah, and the colors!”
In London, they don’t have solids and stripes, but numberless yellows and reds. Their sticks are lighter, their balls are smaller. Pool here is a dainty game.
“Unfair,” I said. “Making Americans use finesse. You know we’re only good at brute force.”
We got schooled.
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