Last autumn I was drinking a glass of wine sitting at a sidewalk table in front of the James Joyce Pub in the 17th arrondissement and off to my left out of the corner of my eye I noticed a van parking on the corner.
Parisians will park anywhere they can, on the crosswalk, double park or even triple park so it was no surprise that someone was attempting to parallel park on a corner.
A few moments later someone climbed out of the passenger side of the van and stumbled as the vehicle pulled away from the curb. I noticed it was a girl, maybe in her late twenties. She regained her composure and walked in my direction; she passed me and stopped in front of the empty chair at my table. She looked me right in the eyes and said something in French. I said, "Je ne comprends pas".
Part of the culture in many Latin countries is a kind of starring contest, the opposite sex looks you in the eye and they do not look away. I can play it as well now as when I was nine years old.
She said, "you are English!"
"No, I'm American."
"Hey, American man, where are you from?"
"Texas."
She sat in the chair she was standing in front of, leaned on the table towards me and continued the starring contest.
"Hey Texas man, you like French girls?"
"Sure I like French girls."
"You like me? Texas man."
"Of course I like you."
"Hey Texas man, buy me a glass of wine."
"No"
"Why not?"
"I am married; my wife is inside the pub and will be out soon."
She stood up, sort of awkward and said, "Bonsoir, Texas man."
"Bonsoir", I said as she walked away.