The Question of Our Speech

I have taken a significant step in broadening my linguistic abilities, social skills, and street credibility: my dealings with the local populace are increasingly negotiated by means of a decidedly American accent on my part. I have not yet extended this amazing endeavour to any intelligent conversation (for I can't really keep it up for long) but, who knows and why not?
No, I have not given in to the imperialist pressures of the States, and I am not going to transform myself into a Yank (above all, I solemnly pledge that I will not take to wearing trainers when I'm not out running), but, believe me, one gets very tired of requesting a slice of tomato on a sandwich and having that statement reciprocated with an eloquent "What!?" from the person behind the counter. The same goes for a simple beer - as if anyone would ever order a "bee" in a pub. And, rather than tarnishing my impeccable British accent with utterances like "tomaaydo", "ledduce", "beerr" or "Makerrs Marrk" (as dear old Henry said, "it is the repetition that drives home the ugliness"), I decided to go all the way, at least in those situations where comprehension is both at risk, and vital.
And, guess what, in a weird way, assimilation feels quite liberating, so that I now cordially answer the standard "How are you doin' " with a jovial "I'm good, how are you", without spontaneously thinking that whole ubiquitous ritual a shallow charade anymore. It is, after all, rather nice to be asked how you are by someone you have never seen before and only want to obtain, say, a pita from. Ya know, it's totally aaaawesooooome!