Independence Day was saved by some good old-fashioned outdoor drinking

It’s a funny thing, being a Brit in America on the Fourth of July. The flags roll out, the fireworks light up the sky, people sling on their barbecues and joke about laying off the shackles of British imperialism. As my fiance said last year when we were queueing up for a drink on the small island of Nantucket and someone unfurled a crossed-out Union Jack, “This is all a bit awkward, isn’t it?”

The truth is, however, that Independence Day rarely provokes conversations about Queen and Country. Most Americans will look at you blankly when you say the obligatory, “I guess I should feel a bit sheepish today!” in your British accent as you partake in an extra beer and slice of apple pie under a slew of stars and stripes. For them, it’s a summer bank holiday which marks hot weather, day-drinking and a long weekend with your friends (Christmas and Thanksgiving are for families; Memorial Day, Labour Day and Independence Day are strictly for friends). Few think about its significance, especially because the star-spangled banner is used as a decoration so often on the streets of the US – yes, even in New York City – that no one pays particular mind when an extra few get wheeled out for the Fourth of July celebrations.

There are a lot of traditionally “New York” things I’ve started to do since moving to the States: Friday is bagel day, for instance, with coffee and jalapeno cream cheese on a toasted Everything Bagel (the bagel made in-house by the store, which throws together all the ingredients they have in the pantry – usually garlic, onion and a variety of seeds. Consuming it functions very well as a kissing deterrent as well, if you’re trying to stay chaste.) I studiously avoid ever walking through Times Square, and I spend an inordinate amount of time swapping “hidden” restaurants and speakeasy recommendations with people I meet in the neighbourhood. But in terms of traditionally American things, there are few I’ve picked up. I don’t think I’ll ever be found unironically waving a miniature flag. I can’t abide a Twinky, and Hershey’s chocolates will never compare to Cadbury’s. I haven’t yet bought an SUV and started complaining about taxes and the damn government oversight, though I have had a nose through a gun shop in Long Island with Trump campaign stickers on the door.

The Fourth of July is probably one of the only times when New York becomes fully American. “God bless America” and “U-S-A! U-S-A!” get thrown about with reckless abandon. Red, white and blue-themed food and cocktails start being sold. Restaurants offer specials on “freedom fries”. But luckily for those of us brought up in cynical, slightly pessimistic countries where shouting about liberty and hugging one’s own flag is seen as a sign of impending mental illness rather than welcome patriotism, it only lasts for a couple of days.

This year, the celebrations for Independence Day were a little more muted than usual due to the coronavirus pandemic. There were no big crowds on the waterfront to watch the usual firework display sponsored by Macy’s; instead, the New York City Twitter account promised separate five-minute displays in each of the five boroughs spaced throughout the week, with one-hour warnings given so people had time to get on their rooftops or set up on balconies but not to gather in crowds. From our own roof in Brooklyn, we struggled to see much when our borough’s turn came around – but we hauled our sun loungers down to the local park on Saturday, and there were plenty of amateurs happy enough to give us an impromptu display there.

As Brits, we might not be able to sincerely partake in all of the celebrations pertaining to America’s independence. But we’re champions at drinking ciders and beers in outdoor spaces, come rain or shine, meaning that our extremely humid Fourth of July – complete with occasional tropical thunderstorms – was still a resounding success. And only one person insulted the Queen.