Thank-you!
Thank-you!
Thank-you!
Oy.
Cursed with blushing, I turned around, exited.
Once outside, I nearly fell down laughing.
And then there was that bakery in Paris, when I was twenty, that I visited daily for my croissants and baguette. Desiring something sweet, I asked for a Napoleon. The crowded boulangerie suddenly became very quiet, and the girl behind the counter delivered an arch glare.
What? Did I say something wrong?
She looked me in the eye and said, "Il est mort."
Whereupon loud bursts of laughter erupted from everyone in line.
"Mille feuille," she said, "a thou-sand-leaves."
Oops.
I'd just ordered a dead emperor.
I recall a story my friend Carolyn Street told decades ago about sitting on a Parisian park bench with only a baguette and asking (in her bad French) the fellow on the other end, who was lunching on a salami, if he wanted to put his meat in her bun. Fortunately he was amused and understanding.
ReplyDeleteah yes...my first time in
ReplyDeleteparis i was running late to catch a train and couldnt figure out if I was going in the right direction for the train station. i stopped an elderly man, and said, mispronouncing loudly, "ou est la gare? ou est la gare?"
he glared at me silently for a minute, then finally declared grimly: "La guerre est fini!"
Sean: HAHAHA!
ReplyDeleteSusan, laughing out loud here!!!
ReplyDeletethere is the advantage in traveling to English-speaking countries only...but then again, Paris probably has the best dead emperors, so there you go.
ReplyDeleteTara, "Best Dead Emperors" would make a great band name.
ReplyDeleteA little sweet; unlike Nappy.
ReplyDelete