“It had to happen, it’s your stupid president and the ridiculous foreign policy of your country, what can you expect?” said the owner of a restaurant while seating me.
I had been enjoying my visit to Paris that I’d saved all year for, paying my respects to numerous artists and writers of the past, the glory of France, and in between, to various chefs and bakers, all so delightful I was ready to throw my passport into the Seine and never go home.
“You Americans, see what happens with your aggression, your cowboy president, your materialism,” said the man at the newspaper kiosk as he threw, with some aggression of his own I thought , a copy of The International Herald Tribune at me.
I was starting to get a little peeved but did not want my lovely vacation spoiled, Paris is Paris after all, what’s not to enjoy?
“Your insane support of Israel is going to do you in,” said a preening author at a dinner party, eyes darkening as he shoved a bite of a delectable French cheese in his mouth and ripped a piece off the legendary French baguette.
“To hell with Paris, these people are beginning to get on my nerves!” I said to no one in particular after getting into a little tiff with a guy in a café--if I could just get confirmation that the planes will be flying by Saturday: It was time to leave France, we‘d reached an impasse and I didn't want to be rude.
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