Let's put it this way -- I wouldn't read it.

     Stephanie and Melissa hurried into the little shop out of the rain, shaking the drops off their umbrellas as they stood inside the doorway. Outside, cars sprayed through puddles as shoppers ran to their destinations. The American students watched a woman in a red overcoat try to hail a taxi with her arms full of packages and an umbrella in one hand, but the cab sped on by in spite of her clumsy efforts.
     The warm glow of the lamps, the homey fireplace, and the enticing smell of coffee and cinnamon scones welcomed the girls, drawing them in from the cold toward the back of the shop. They walked up to the counter and stood in the queue to order. In spite of the cold that was inherent in St. Andrews rainstorms, several customers crowded toward the counter. One man in a grey trench coat glared sullenly at the ground, fervently running his hand through his long, brown hair. Stephanie stared at the drops as they fell into a pool at either side of the man’s feet.
     “How much editing do you still have to do?” asked Melissa. Stephanie looked up.
     “I have about five pages left. This class has so much more work for it than my English classes back in Terre Haute do,” she replied, “but I guess I kind of expected that when I decided to study here.”
     “I know what you mean,” said Melissa in a crisp Connecticut accent. “I have so many more papers to write here for my history classes compared to back home.”
     “It’s hard sometimes to adjust to everything here,” Stephanie confided to her friend. “It’s not just the coursework, either. It’s everything; even the weather. I mean, look at us. We’re soaked.” Her voice grew in intensity as her curly, red ponytail bounced emphatically. “My pants are so wet right now!” She practically yelled the last part.
     All around the room, the voices lulled, and dozens of eyes trained on the girls. Standing ahead of them, a teenage boy with a pierced lip snickered, leaning in toward the girl whose hand he was holding and mumbled something to her. Melissa’s face turned a purple hue. She quickly shushed Stephanie with a loud, overdramatic whisper: “Do you know what that means here?!!!!”
     Stephanie sheepishly bowed her head as she hunched her shoulders. “What does that mean? What did you just let me say?!” she retorted angrily. All around them, people continued to watch them, idly conversing.
     Melissa, who had arrived earlier and spent more time in the Scottish pubs than studying, replied with irritation, “‘Pants’ means ‘underwear’ here! They call ‘pants’ as we know them ‘trousers.’”
     Now it was Stephanie’s turn to be embarrassed. “I had no idea!” Without thinking, she quickly looked around and yelled, “I meant trousers! I’m sorry; I’m from America!”
     A crescendo of chuckles went around the room. A woman sitting at a table near the window took a sip of tea as she smiled at Stephanie. “I’ve been there,” the woman commented to the man sitting across from her, who nodded his head. The other coffee and tea aficionados resumed their conversations.
     Outside, the rain still poured. Stephanie gazed out at the dreary sky, as she muttered, more to herself than anyone else, “I’ll bet it’s sunny right now in Indiana.”