“Brexit:” The Birth of a Ridiculous Term

As news of Britain’s historic vote to leave the European Union spread like wild fire on Friday, there was much to talk about. Global markets went into turmoil, politicians began spinning the results and many Britons woke up to realize that perhaps they hadn’t fully understood what they were voting for.

Not unlike the 1985 board meeting that resulted in “New Coke” I imagine.

As the chaos erupted, one thing became abundantly clear, the star of the spectacle was the term “Brexit” itself. Little more than a mild-mannered portmanteau, Brexit was born out of the ridiculous need to take the beginning of the word “Britain” and add it to the word “exit” (that mind-blowing revelation is for all of you who are a little slow today)—a bespoke phrase for the ages. How appropriately British.

By Saturday morning, as we were greeted with headlines like, “Global Shocks After Upheaval in Britain,” I was feeling a little Brexit momentum myself. After all, here was a phrase that essentially defined the action of taking total and complete leave of any and all activities and associations, the ultimate “let’s go” terminology. Eager to get my weekend tasks accomplished, I began encouraging my household to get it together and, “Brexit.”

As the dog stood at the top of the stairs, not wanting to venture into the heat for a potty break, I looked at him and said, “Come on bud, Brexit.” He quickly fell in line. Surrounded by sweaty tourists on 23rd Street, I raised my voice and bellowed, “Brexit, people, Brexit.” And part like the Red Sea they did. When I found myself at the gym a little while later, a historic movement in itself, I worked my way out of an enthusiasm slump by telling myself to, “Shut up and Brexit.”

Evening fell and more people were swept up into my Brexit momentum. For some reason, I had a hankering for fish and chips. Walking to dinner, stragglers in our dining group were faced with taunts of, “Dude, Brexit.” Later on, as it became clear the night was over, I made my exit, uttering, “I gotta Brexit.” That night I dreamed I was in a prescription drug ad. As I bobbed for apples in the shape of Big Ben, a voice said, "Ask your doctor about Brexit."

Sunday morning’s New York Times arrived emblazoned with the phrase, “Europe Urges Dazed Britain to Get Moving.” In other words, Brexit, Britain, Brexit.

Brexit was transcending. I had visions of Brexit taking on stratospheric levels of meaning. “Get it together,” “Hurry up,” “Make haste,” “Move your ass;” Brexit would come to define a generation's momentum. Soon it would be known as Sir Brexit, lunching with the Queen, motivating youth around the world, standing up for climate change. "We aren’t going to take it anymore," Brexit would say, arm in arm with Leo at a Save the Oceans rally in Copenhagen. “The time is now. We're here, we're Brexit, get used to it.”

But by the time I had finished my stale scone and half a crumpet on Monday morning, I realized it was me who needed to Brexit. History may or may not look back on the Brexit vote with the disdain it is currently inciting, but with global markets continuing to slide and no end to the post-vote confusion in sight, even someone as ridiculous as I am can see that we need to get serious and collectively shore up a strategy for moving forward.

Or, for lack of a better phrase, Brexit.

So, today I pledge to get my Brexit on. Because in life, it’s lead, follow or get ridiculous. And getting ridiculous is one thing I’ll never Brexit.

New Coke: Just totally Brexit.

Photo: time.com