In the eyes

When it comes to spending time with French friends, there are a couple of constants: beverages (wine for me, s’il vous plaît), candy, peanut butter puffed chips, and pizza; there is a strong chance these ‘constants’ are specific to me and the company I keep. Regardless of the company kept, a true French tradition is to make a toast to all. As we made like Pink and began to raise our glasses, Maverik Midget King tsked us and strongly advised, “In the eyes, in the eyes.” Apparently, just as one must “just look before you say no,” one must also just look “in the eyes” of whom they are toasting.

 

We heeded his advice, if for no other reason than to be nice. As the night went on the conversations in French increased. I did what I do best, at work and in my personal life, looked people in the eye, smiled and looked pretty….or, at this point in the evening, looked pretty drunk. “Do you know why it is so easy for me to be around people who speak a language I don’t understand?” I asked MiniMe, but did not wait for a reply. “Because I zone out, don’t listen, just like when I am among a group of English speakers. I only really listen about 10% of the time. The rest of the time, phoompf (a noise I learned from the French once when I wasn’t 90%ing).”

 

A few glasses of wine later, MiniMe was showing a need for sleep (in her eyes, which were closing). We left the gathering and when we arrived home Maverik Midget King told me, “You look like Courtney Love.” “Why do you say that?” I asked (listening, because he was talking about me). “The eyes,” he replied. “The eyes?” I asked, added a “phoompf,” and, like Courtney Love, passed out.

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