My friend and I had gone into the quaint town of High Wycombe, UK, in search of hats. It was summer in England. We were at a course, but also enjoying what England has to offer: walks in the woods in daylight until midnight, historic pubs with traditions, tasty Indian food, cream tea. And of course, fashionable hats.

The conference center where we were housed took mealtimes very seriously. Everyone entered the dining hall at the same time for family-style meals—everyone, except those who got caught up shopping for hats and arrived late.

So my friend and I showed up in the doorway of the dining hall a little bit late, well-hatted. Loud conversations, laughter, serious discussion of deep issues all well underway. Then they spotted us and a hush fell across the room, forks stopped in mid-air. Every eye was on us, gazing at these Americans with proper hats. Late For Lunch.

For once in my life I was speechless, wishing I was not the center of this much attention, feeling so very conspicuous.

My friend, however, had her wits about her and greeted them all like the queen with a royal wave and a smile.