CAMBRIDGE, United Kingdom—As we crossed the bridge into Cambridge on the fourth of July, my Harvard compatriots began shouting “America the Beautiful.”

“Oh my god,” I thought. “I’m one of them – part of an obnoxious gang of American college students terrorizing cities across Europe.”

I clutched my purse and prayed the passing horde of British teens would leave us alone.

Being abroad on the fourth of July is a tricky thing, but being in the U.K. feels especially fraught.  After all, my colonial ancestors whupped these guys way back in the eighteenth century, right?  It seems a bit crass to celebrate.

Leave it to the Brits to rub it all back in our faces.

“Tomorrow night we are celebrating the independence of our friends across the pond with arguably their greatest export,” read a Facebook post for the event we were attending.  “FRAT PARTY BABY! Expect jello shots, red cups, shot limbo and classic Frat Party games!”

America, God shed his grace on thee.  So off we Yankees went, descending upon a bar aptly named “Revolution” and eventually making it upstairs to the frat party.  Lipstick-ed, teetering women writhed alongside men inexplicably dressed in fanciful costumes (camoflauge, royal regalia, possibly a Crayon?), all beneath garlands of American flags.

Looking back, I should’ve been tipped off by the portrait of Lenin.

That’s right, folks – our ‘Murica-loving British friends had staged their fourth of July event in a Communist-themed bar.  I started noticing Soviet references and an ample use of red.  The frat party itself was going down next to a “Revolución de Cuba” sign.

However, it looked like most partygoers, British and American, cared more about the jello shots than the irony.  Some things transcend all rivalries.