In Paris. No end of adjectives can describe Paris; being in Brussels means that we can easily get here by train – and we fully intend to take more advantage of this. Of course, this means that we get to see all things Parisian – good or bad.
We do the usual touristy things in Paris and enjoy Parisian life every which way. We stop at a small cafe by the Church of Notre Dame after having toured the place. We order and amuse ourselves watching the world go by as we lunch. The place is not empty but there are few patrons apart from ourselves.
We are disturbed by the sight and sound of a group of teenage girls entering the cafe from our left. Judging by the accents, they are American. They sit, consult the menu and giggle to themselves until one of the waiters swaggers up to their table to take their order. He begins chatting with them. I continue to eat and realise, after a few minutes, that the waiter has made himself comfortable beside them. They do not look too pleased.
(French accent) “I will only take your order if you give me a kiss,” he says. He throws his left hand up in the air as he says this. He probably thinks it is a gallant, Gallic gesture but it comes across as a filthy, foreign fumble.
We can see the girls squirm. They ask for a Diet Coke.
He continues to flirt but tires of the lack of enthusiasm from the Americans and proceeds to get their drink. They consult one another to see what to do about the unwanted advances. The drink arrives with a merry wink.
They sip and consult the menu once more. Slowly counting out what must be the exact change, they gulp the rest of the drink down. The door is not far from their table. They wait until the waiter is behind the bar wiping glasses and dash out, leaving a small mound of coins behind.
Nonchalantly, he puts his cloth down and continues talking to his friend as he saunters across to pick up the pile of coins.
“Good-bye stingy people!” he calls out.
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