I went to France with an American attitude, as I have been told, and expected nothing short of American standards - which I thought would be pretty universal. My forte in the French language helped, sure, but the miscommunication led me to continually dispute with French people. I think I became somewhat of a spectacle for the French. And the truth is, I entered Charles De Gaulle Airport determined that I was going to start in that country on a clean slate.
In the 5th Arrondisment, the Latin Quarter, a group of friends and I went out for galettes (a buckwheat version of the traditional crepe.) Overpriced this particular Creperie was on a cliche cobblestone street just to the right of the Fountain of St. Michel, and is everything you want out the "French" experience.
The galettes were great, the service pretty damn good compared to the usual blasé server. The cidre (a must try - French Apple Cider, with alcohol) was flowing with the first pop of the pressurized bouchon. Tipsy to the point of minor giggles, the bill arrived and naturally everyone got up to use the W.C. That's when the waitress came to receive payment. I was the only one at the table, cramped into the corner. She proceeded to ask how we were paying in English. I said, "My friends are in the restroom but we will all pay separately when they get back." She frowned, pursed her lips, and then asked: "Why don't you just pay for your friends?"
You would have thought I farted and she caught the first whiff, by the look on her face. I continued to bicker with her about splitting the check, which is not something you do in France, and then things got rather heated. My friends came back, turns out we all have Visa cards. She said in French, "Americans are all the same." And I replied, "Je vous-comprends, Madame." She proceeded in a rapid rant of how I needed lessons in politesse and that it would've been a nice gesture to pay for my friends, blah blah blah.
I was asked never to come back to that creperie.
They bastards!
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