As you know I have been flying around the last few weeks. First Montreal, then Texas. But now I'm home and don't have to travel--besides local trips--for another few weeks.In the many years that I have been a frequent traveller, I only recount doing "the unthinkable" one other time, but I had to do it on a recent flight and I think I will be traumatized for life. Yes, that's right. I needed to "fully" use the toilet on an airplane [insert gasps of horror here].After what seemed like a half hour of delicately layering toilet paper on the seat, I had properly created what must have been nearly an inch of paper protection (sorry, environment). Of course then the goal became positioning myself just right so as not to disrupt any of the precarious toilet paper layering. Having not done this often, however, I proceeded to bump half of the toilet paper right into the bowl. Damn. Now I had to start over with the layering process. After another half hour I finished the protection process and managed to get the engineering just right so as not to disrupt the layering as I sat on the well-protected yet still disturbing throne. All I could think of as I sat there was that taking a crap at 37,000 feet was one of the most unnatural acts possible. Then, of course, I became slightly panicked as to the possible odors that I was going to leave. But I knew there was no way I was going to give a "courtesy flush" (see previous post) while still seated. I am certain that blue water would leave an embarrassing permanent stain on my derriere that would not be fun explaining for the rest of my life.As a precaution, I flushed the toilet nearly 10 times after finishing and washed my hands several times to fill the air with soap smell. Of course, all that accomplished was the creation of a whole other aroma I'm sure the next person was not going to appreciate. And, from the time it took to cover the seat twice and ponder what my ancestors-before-plane-travel would think of me "taking care of business" miles above the earth, I knew there was going to be a line of people waiting.I decided I would leave with my head held high and ignore the stares and pointing fingers. As I made my way back to my seat, I felt gratitude that the whole incident was now in the past. Nobody would ever remember or see me again. In fact, I was sure most had no idea the ordeal I had just experienced. Wait. What was that at my feet? Was that? Yes folks, I actually managed to trail toilet paper through the aisle and right to my seat.
All this week I have been in Montreal. It is one of my favorite cities in North America. It is so European in flavor with incredible architecture, cafes flowing out into the streets, and the beautiful sound of French ringing everywhere. I've had a chance to use some of the French I have been learning in class, but I think I have only learned that I need quite a few more years of study. I can ask questions and make simple conversation...I just can't understand any of the responses. Oh, details, details. It's still been fun and has reignited my desire to master the language.Okay, it's home tomorrow afternoon before I turn around and have to fly out West. Hope all is well in America. Bon soir!
Can you guess what I had as an appetizer for dinner last Friday? It's been years since I had this delicacy, but it won't be that long before I enjoy this again. I forgot exactly how tasty this dish is. I used to have it occasionally in my youth. It's still available in many restaurants in Michigan due to the number of French who used to inhabit the state. Send your guesses in a comment.
Yesterday I was in an office-building restroom and noticed that there was someone occupying one of the stalls. Not a problem, I had to go #1.All was well until another man entered the restroom who stood at the urinal next to the occupied stall and proceeded to say, "Courtesy flush."What? Really? I have never heard this before. I knew what it meant, but calling it out to another person? The man in the stall didn't respond, either verbally or physically with a flush, so the man at the urinal repeated (louder this time), "Courtesy flush." It was one of those horribly awkward moments, and I felt for the man in the stall and was a bit shocked at the boldness of the man at the urinal.As I finished my business, I heard the man in the stall say, "Courtesy flush? Why don't you just deal with it." Oh, no. Hurry, wash the hands, wash the hands before a bathroom throw down occurs. As I opened the door to exit, I heard both men break into laughter. Clearly they knew each other and were just giving each other a hard time (must be straight men's humor). I have to admit that I quickly scanned the area for hidden cameras, wondering if all of my stunned reactions were being caught for some television show.
Yesterday was a gorgeous day in New York City. It was one of those fresh Spring days that just makes you feel vibrant and alive. The sun was shining brightly, a gentle breeze carried scents of blooming trees and flowers, the parks will filled with people laughing and walking hand in hand, and the gays were wandering around shirtless, catching every opportunity to hon their tans and show their stuff. My partner and I walked to the park by the water and just sat there in amazement, yet again, that we actually live in this incredible city. Ah, what a fresh Spring day can do for the soul...and the tan.
Last night my partner and I headed out for dinner at a restaurant near our home. On our way, we passed the always-pleasant homeless man who is frequently sitting at one particular corner. He's always saying something cheerful or funny to the passersby, whether they offer him some change or not.I remembered that I had some quarters in my coat pocket that had been there for nearly the whole winter, so I decided they might as well go to good use. I offered them to the man. He looked at me and with a big smile said, "Thank you, young man." Young man? I nearly gave him $20 more.As I was walking away the man called out, "Hey, Romeo, is that your friend?" (referring to my partner). "Yes it is," I replied. "Or is that your Romeo?" "He's my Romeo," I replied this time. "Alright, " he said, "Romeo and Romeo. Excellent! Gay rights are an important issue. Number 1!" As the light changed and we crossed the street, we could hear him continue to sing the praises of gays everywhere.After chuckling at the exchange, two thoughts came to my mind: Either that homeless man had incredibly fine-tuned gaydar or I just simply can't pass for straight. Do you think the high heels could have been the give away? Hmm.
I think I have to start a regular post titled "French Lesson of the Week" because there are some downright hilarious moments nearly every week of class. And our teacher makes sure these are properly pointed out and exaggerated to keep the class lighthearted.This week one of our assignments was to talk about sports and what part of the body they were beneficial for. Everybody did a good job, except for the poor girl in class who just can't seem to catch a break.When her turn came she was desperately trying to say that yoga was good for the whole body (le corps). Instead, however, she didn't pronounce the "r" and the word came out sounding like a slang term. Of course our teacher didn't let the moment pass. She proceeded to giggle and say, "So yoga is good for the penis? I'm not sure I knew that."The whole class sat there sort of stunned and then broke out in simultaneous laughter. At the same time we all secretly made a note of the new slang term.Now excuse me as I run to my first yoga class...I've got to make sure that girl didn't know something that I should know.
As you know I have been flying around the last few weeks. First Montreal, then Texas. But now I'm home and don't have to travel--besides local trips--for another few weeks.
