Encouraging the Delinquency of a Minor

OK, so today, at the end of the day I have duty at school. I escort students from the sidewalk to the cars that pull up to pick them up. I'm the one in the front of the line and I tell the parents when they can move as soon as a batch of students are safely in their cars. Even though it's not the safest spot, being between two lines of cars with semi-angry parents and their spawn, I chose it because it's the easiest spot. I don't have to deal with behavior problems from kids sitting on the sidewalk.

So, today, I'm doing my usual thing when a parent rolls down her window. The rolling down of the window can be two things: 1.) They're being friendly and want to say HI. *or* 2.) They want to complain about something or someone. Lucky for me, it was number 2.

Mom X lowered the window of her very expensive SUV. She was dressed rather chicly and not ghetto as most of my parents are at times. They tend to confuse ghetto with chic. Although you can have ghetto chic, but that's for another day. I took a guess that she was going to complain about another parent cutting in front of her while waiting in line, but alas I was incorrect. In the few minutes that it took her daughter to get from the sidewalk to her car, she complained to her mother that some teacher had "done her wrong."

MOM: See that lady with the black jacket?

ME: Yes

MOM: She told my baby that she wasn't here to deal with problems of fighting.

ME: Um, well, what to do you mean?

MOM: Some little girl was hitting my baby and she told my baby that she wasn't out here to deal with that kind of thing. (turning to her daughter and then violently pointing at her child with her angry index finger) I'm telling you if someone hits you I give you my permission to slap whoever it is upside their head.

ME: Um, m'am, Let's not do that, ok? Why don't we say that if someone should bother your little girl, that she should come look for me to see if I can help her instead. We don't want to encourage her to hit someone else.

MOM: I tell her not to fight anyone, but if someone hits her, I want her to slap them upside their head. (contradict much???)

ME: I can understand your feelings, but remember fighting is not allowed and if she does hit someone she'll be suspended for fighting.

MOM: (all calm now) OK, OK, (laughs), thank you very much.

ME: OK, try and have a good weekend. Bye.

Is it any wonder kids turn out the way they do? Instead of teaching them the right thing to do, they encourage and praise the wrong.

NIP/TUCK

I was browsing the internets today when I caught a sight of this...



We know she nips, but does she also tuck like Pete Burns? I think she does.

Here's Pete...

Moon River and Givenchy

While reading through Entertainment Weekly's umpteenth list of their favorite (you fill in the blank), I found that they listed Audrey Hepburn as one of their favorite singing actors.

I think I'm overly medicated, due to a terribly nasty cold, but I teared up involuntarily. ( bad sentence, but I don't feel like fixing it.)

Je T'aime Jane

Here's a little French interlude for you.

Jane Birkin (of Hermes Birkin Bag fame to name a few), and Serge Gainsbourg. There's an interesting article about him in November's Vanity Fair. He was an interesting fellow.

Enjoy.

Chapitre Deaux – Planes, Subways, Trains, and Automobiles

They were later than they’d meant to be, but not seriously late; not so late that even I would be surprised by it. After all, who would I be to say anything about it? I’m notoriously late all the time. I’m really trying to work on that.

It didn’t matter because our two experienced guides were there to help us through the maze that is the Paris Metro. Angela and Marshall took out their handy metro map, which looked like a Technicolor spider web. We left floor 1 and the bustling Continental terminal and headed downstairs to a wide-open area where there were many people with suitcases waiting around. There wasn’t much movement that I could recall. A great many people looking like they had nowhere to go, yet they were all going somewhere with their luggage in tow. I was trying to absorb everything. I tried noticing what people were doing, but I was just anxious to get out of the airport and into downtown Paris.

The first thing Debbie and I needed to do was to get cash. Our guides told us the best rates of exchange could be found at ATMs and not the machines that said CHANGE. When I left the US I knew the exchange rate for the Euro was 1 Euro for every 1.41 dollars. (Does that make sense fact checkers?) We found an ATM. It felt good to have some “walking around” money because I only had a few dollars on me. Our American money wasn’t any good over there.

Upon getting our money, Angela informed us that she had figured out what train to take to the Austerlitz train station, or somewhere near it. The next thing I knew we were on board a metro car and on our way to the train station. I was so tired I had no idea I’d napped on the way to our next stop. MSH has the proof in his pictures.

When we stepped off the metro, somehow, though, we ended up at Gare de Lyon instead of Gare d’Austerlitz and we had to cross the Seine to get to it. “The Seine!” That’s what my mind screamed when Angela said we had to find the Seine. Actually, she may have said they moved the river on her or the station. One of those two, and had I been taking notes while carrying my book bag and suitcase, I would know this. Alas, I do not. So anyway, we strolled in the direction of the river, but we weren’t quite sure how to get across. Angela then took it upon herself to ask the nearest stranger. Our lucky stranger was found sitting on a nearby bench. I believe he was taking a break after having had a long liquid lunch. As soon as Angela brought him over, you could smell his lunch permeating from his pores. Although drunk, he had a nice French accent while speaking English. He has more than happy to direct us to the train station. Along the way, I somehow discovered that our kind stranger spoke Spanish and we had a brief conversation about his life. It was interesting to hear him open up to a total stranger. He revealed that he was originally from Belgium but he’d lived in Spain for a quite a few years. He was recently separated from his wife, and he’d return to France to spend some time. He didn’t have the chance to tell me why he smelled of alcohol in the middle of the day, but had our walk been longer I’m sure we would have told me. I don’t think it was over his wife. As we neared our destination, I knew I had to at least give him a small tip as a token of appreciation if not for simply telling me a very abbreviated history of his life. I didn’t have any small bills so I decided to give him 10 Euros. It was a pricey tip, but I felt it that I had the money and the story alone was well worth it. I gave him the tip and not a moment later he extended his hand out to MSH and asked him for a tip. He gave our kind stranger a 2 Euro coin. I was appalled. I think he deserved the initial tip, but to ask for extra – it was too much! No?
We made it to the train station and soon we were on our way to Beaugency.