C'est Nice

So, I'm backposting, which feels like cheating, but what can I say? I'm a bad person. Anyway, I started narrating my evening of Thanksgiving in Monaco, and thought "garsh, this sounds familiar," when I realized I had already written it out in an e-mail. Since, of course, we live in the age of computers and technology as well as the age of slovenly laziness, I thought I'd save myself some carpal tunnel syndrome and just post that... besides, I like the way it sounds.

Thanksgiving dinner in Monaco was the result of an (admittedly brief) internet search for locations where a Thanksgiving dinner could be procured. There apparently is some American Ladies' Eating Club of the Riviera that does a dinner actually in Nice, but from what I could tell gaining admission to the club is a lot like getting into college: Letters of recommendation, nomination, etc., etc., and I had neither the time nor the inherent aristocratic nature to deal with it.

So, the restaurant is called "Stars'n'Bars," an American themed place, even though we were waited on by two Italian guys named Antonio and Francesco and a British guy named David. To be honest, I don't think there was a single American on the payroll of the place. The place was trying to be an Applebee's, with memorabilia and things on the wall, except they had real memorabilia, but it wasn't Americana, it was Monacoana. There were bikes that one of the princes had once rode, and jersey's of the local soccer team, so it didn't scream you U.S.A., but more suggested it with a thick accent.

I made the mistake of volunteering to organize the event, which never works out well for me. In attendance was myself, Joy and Charlotte (who live on my corridor), Charlotte's friend from home Jemma, Joy's friends in Nice, Dawn and Isaac (the latter is a former Marine... wrap your head around that one), and then Helen and Claire, from North Carolina and Belfast respectively, and Helen's friend from home, Michael. Helen and Claire are also assistants in Nice, although they work at the University, not in a high school.
The first problem (of which you shall see there were many) was that Dawn works until 4 on Thursdays, but not in Nice, so she doesn't get back to Nice until 5 or so, and then likes to have an hour, hour and a half at home before she does anything else. Unfortuately, the only time I could make a reservation for was 6:30, which meant leaving Nice at 5:30... so, blah. Dawn ended up skipping her lass class. Problem solved.
Problem number two was that Helen had brought Michael without telling me... which, whatever, I don't want to be a nazi about it, but i had made reservations(!). Also, for once my gaydar was on, and this kid set it off, but that signal was followed closely by the "I have no interest in you" signal, which, okay, whatever. Fuck you.
Problem number three was our train was late. Great. I called the resto and pushed back the rez.
Problem number four turned out to be Dawn again, who apparently "doesn't like her food to be touching anything else," and "only eats chicken, pizza, or..." there's one other thing I can't remember. Okay, so Turkey and stuffing are included on that list. Anyway, the way the dinner worked was you paid your 28 euros and in exchange they brought you as many pre-arranged plates of thanksgiving food as you wanted, each plate containing Turkey (which wasn't bad), Stuffing (which had this salty ham in it which I wasn't wild about, but i digress), peas (nothing special), corn on the cob (good, but had been cooked too long before the meal), creamed onions (which i didn't realize was a thanksgiving thing, but were kind of tasty), corn bread (which was hard and dry) and sweet potatoes (which needed to be sweeter), with a little bit of canned cranberry sauce in the middle. So, a homemade thanksgiving dinner it was not, but it had all the necessary items, and considering it was France (and keeping in mind the French capacity for mangling things when it tries to be American) I was pretty happy. Dawn... not so much. I also managed to sit between Dawn and Joy, which was not great, because the only topic of conversation was how disappointing dinner was, Joy calling the waiter over dozens of times to fine-tune Dawn's meal and to get little extra things for herself. Then, all of a sudden, Dawn breaks down and starts crying... crying! Over a Thanksgiving dinner! What the hell!? I would have been surprised if Anna had done that as a five year old, and this girl is in her twenties! First, okay, sorry, first: what the hell was she expecting? She had to send back her plate three or four times because all she wanted was turkey and stuffing, "no gravy." And, yes, I understand that some people have delicate systems, but, I'm sorry, sister, if you're not going to grow up, then you best not leave home."
All right, sorry, I'm venting a little bit... wheeeewwwwww.
So, the magical beautiful evening of thanksgiving it was not: the conversation blew, the food was what it was, and I felt this (foolish) culpability throughout it all. And also, the tryptophan hit me pretty hard, and i was falling asleep most of the time too.Ugh. I just feel kind of cheated from my good time. Pflllbt. Ever have that feeling when you walk into a resaturant, "please don't let me sit next to so and so?" Yeah, I could have used some of that.
Anyway, we made it back to Nice safe and sound, I overselpt this morning before my class... it was a nice little perfect storm. But fortunately, now it's the weekend, so I get to let go a little. It's going to be a simple weekend, mind you, because a lot of cash I have not. People theorized that we would get paid today, but no dice, so far as I can see. Probably have to wait until Wednesday, which, incidentally, is the same day harry potter comes out!!
Anyway, that was my first Thanksgiving abroad... certainly not a record-breaker in quality, but perhaps in peculiarity. Hope everyone here had a happy Turkey day!