Thursday, July 18, 2013
Yesterday an art collector mentioned that he had called a hotel in France to rent a room and the desk clerk said there was only availability on the ground floor. "Will I be were eye to eye with fellow guests while tying your shoelaces?" replied the art collector. "Ouais, so is that a problem?" "Well, I like my privacy." “Then shut the shades.” He complained about the treatment and his friends commiserated by excoriating the French with typical non-Gallic misunderstanding. "Typical French attitude they are not nice to American tourists," commented one of his dinner guests, pouring himself a chilled Cote de Ventoux. Another chuckled about the French love of Jerry Lewis without realizing that the subtitlists have ameliorated the stale Hollywood dialogue, while a young painter wished that she was at the Sorbonne. I said nothing. Les Amerlots sont nul, for they are ignorant of the fact that 90% of the French take 'le grand vacannes' after Bastille Day and remain away until the Grand Retour in mid-August. The bartenders, waiters, cooks, and desk clerks manning the bars, cafes, restaurants, and hotels are the lowest people of the totem pole, being punished for their undistinguished behavior to the clientele throughout the year. Bus boys are upgraded to waiters, chambermaids become desk clerks, and bottle washers are tested as chefs. Bien sur, Les Miserables love nothing more than making tourists miserable with a muttered moue. Moi en tout cas j'adore le France. Viva les frites.