Would you like some cheese with your Whine?

So as I begin to wrap things up here in Gay Pari and prepare to set off to see the rest of the world, I feel that it is necessary to collectively look back on my experiences and time spent with all of these lucky tourist and revisit and maybe even discuss the completely biased opinions that I have formed based on my short time spent with them.

Now, as I have discussed before, people from all over the world have come to Paris to see me this Fall. 30 million a year to be exact. But the people that I have learned the most about in the last 3 months were not following me on bikes or segways. These people were the ones that I sat with on the Metro, that I passed on the street everyday, and just attempted to coexist with for the last three months. The French. And it wasn't that easy.

Before I crossed the pond back in August, I made sure to leave any Hollywood based pre-conceived notions that I had formed about the French at home. Without having ever actually interacted with them before and be it that I was moving in with 3 million of them, I felt it was only fair, and in my best interest, to give them a chance to prove me wrong. A fresh start if you will.

After 3 months of trial by fire I cant take it anymore. I have just found that they are just a cold and cranky group of people. I understand that I don't speak their language. I understand that I barrel through their streets and sidewalks with groups of 25 people. These are both faults of mine and I accept that. But they should be glad they have an intriguing history and a bunch of cool shit to look at because its damn sure not their bright smiling faces and superior customer service that make Paris the number one most visited city in the world.

Now THERE's a topic I can elaborate on a bit. Customer Service. There's a particular exchange that goes on between two people when trying to find the correct translation from one language to another. A series of "umm whats the words?" and "how do you says? For “customer service” the conversation would come to an awkward and confusing standstill because the French have no translation. For there is NO SUCH THING AS CUSTOMER SERVICE in France. To start with, the standard workweek in France is 35 hours. On top of this, they all continually strike over what may seem to us like petty work issues. I say they are petty in relation to the big picture here. Striking because the government wants to push back the retirement age 3 years seems a bit silly when in all reality you work what can be considered part time your whole life. Now the French do have a saying that they defend this lifestyle with. They "work to live, not live to work.” Not real sure about this one but I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that this one is aimed at the good ol’ U.S. of A. I can appreciate this attitude completely but at least pretend to be happy when you do actually choose to go to work. After all its only 35 HOURS A WEEK.

In an American restaurant, a waiter will do all they can to make sure you enjoy your dining experience. Sometimes they can even go a little overboard to where you just want them to go away. This is because in America, waiters have an incentive to provide superior service. These little nuggets of motivation are called tips. When one first visits the city of lights they may notice tips are included in the check. This can be quite deceiving because at first you feel like, "oh, I only pay what's on the bottom there." Well after a few trips to the diner tainted by hopeless empty glasses and bitter waiters, one cannot help but look forward to a day when service matters once again. Its almost as if the customer and salesman have switched positions. Instead of the waiter kissing the customers ass to try and get a good tip, the customer feels like he cant flag the waiter down (because he damn sure isn’t coming to check on you) in fear that he will spit on your baguette. After all, he made his money the minute you walked in the door.

For those of you that know me all too well you can only imagine how frustrating this can be for me. Again, I realize a lot of this can be attributed to my ignorance for not knowing how to speak French. But to be honest the only thing that would change is the way I would handle the situation, not the way they act. Another example. What person in their right mind stops in the middle of the sidewalk to yell at 20 strangers who cant understand them and better yet dont even stop to acknowledge their presence. This happens more than you would think. You can see it coming down the sidewalk. Some French woman looks up to see a few bikes headed her way and instead of just stepping aside, not even off the sidewalk, to let them pass by for a few seconds, she firmly holds her ground, raises whatever it is in her hand, be it cane, umbrella, or baguette and starts yelling. And when I say yelling I am not exaggerating. Literally, it is like a mom fed up with her 8 kids ready to pull her hair out. Yelling. It almost makes me feel sad for them because an outburst like that is likely to ruin the rest of your day. I know once I pass them they aren’t letting that emotion loose for awhile. It’s just so unnecessary.

Maybe this is just because we all live in a place (Texas) where people generally walk around with smiles on their face and only scowl and bitch at people when they deserve it. We say excuse me and sorry even when its probably not necessary and can have genuine conversations with complete stranger. Not in Paris. It’s just a way of life here. Lookin out for number one is the name of the game. Get where you need to go and do what you need to do. Push anyone in your way out of it, don’t stop at the crosswalks, honk at everyone that moves, don’t pass Go, don’t collect $200 and for damn sure don’t even think about stopping to try and help one of the 30 million hopelessly lost souls in your city navigating a map upside down and backwards while trying situate themselves accordingly to Eiffel Tower. Yell at them to get off the sidewalk so that you can rollerblade your way to the park. After all, we all know you’re not going to work.