Back in town, after a whirlwind week in Dallas! I'll tell you, we had a pretty exciting night at Texas Stadium. I couldn't quite believe that 400 of us were ushered out through the giant Cowboys helmet (cheerleaders adorning both sides), then provided an open bar right there on the field, a few ex-Cowboys, Rowdy, the mascot, and footballs. Many, many footballs. We kicked field goals, caught balls in the end zone, and finally started a small touch game which was more fun than I've had in a long, long time, save every day with J. And I left unscathed! Some of my coworkers? Not so lucky. Separated shoulders, broken bones.
I still maintain that alcohol plus footballs equals AWESOME.
Do you want to know what else happened this week? Yesterday our plane from Dallas was extremely packed. (For some reason, Dallas to Philly is now a "regional" flight, which equates to a tiny jet with just four seats acrossed. Cramped.) A woman seated across the aisle from me had a large bag that would not fit into any overhead compartment. She also spoke no English. The flight attendant tried speaking louder to get her to understand, which of course did not do the trick. The woman was Spanish-speaking, but inquired of the flight attendant, "French?"
"Does anybody speak French?" She shouted. Feeling empathetic, I stepped up.
"Un peu," I said to the woman. ("A bit.")
"Ask her if she is going anywhere else after Philadelphia! We need to check her bag!" Flight Attendant barked at me.
Please understand, readers, that I took four years of French in high school. I rocked it. I loved the language, and I continued my studies in college, where I read French texts and went to French restaurants. No, I was never a natural, never fluent, but conversational. Passable.
All of the passengers in the immediate vicinity were looking at me expectantly. I began.
I could feel my face burning, but I only sat there dumbly. I was paralyzed by stupidity.
After what felt like an eternity, Flight Attendant finally gave up on me and shouted: "Does any one speak Spanish?!?"
The lesson? No, no I suppose I don't speak French. Not even un peu.
(For the record, it's Allez-vous n'importe où après philadelphie?)
God, I hate myself.