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1 September 2002
Je ne sais quoi
Give me back Andy and Fran
By Terry Riley
 It’s
been that time of year again. The time when, notwithstanding the threat of
terrorism, many American vacationers packed eastbound airplanes to make
their initial assault on Europe. Despite standing in line for hours to
enter the Uffizi, or discovering that Portuguese drivers frequently make three
traffic lanes from two, or having their wallets lifted in the Paris metro, for many Americans a trip to Europe is
seen as a right of passage into the mainstream of vacationdom.
Now I’ve got no problem with vacationing in Europe. Heck, I’ve done it
myself. However, I do get annoyed when I must interact with newly affected
travelers returning from the Old World. What happens to these people? They leave U.S. soil utterly oafish and
return all urbane.
That's exactly what happened to our neighbors, Andy and Fran. They left
absolutely clueless and returned terminally sophisticated.
To wit:
 They
left on vacation on July 7. They returned from holiday on 7 August.
They left
shaking hands. They returned to kiss our cheeks.
They
left wearing Hawaiian shirts and white tennies. They returned dressed in
all black.
Before they
left, they would toss down burgers and
fries. Now they nibble fois gras.
They
used to answer the phone with “Hello.” Now it’s “Pronto.”
They
used to eat dinner at 6:30, starting with a salad. Now they eat at 9:30
and have their salad last.
They used to
use dinner utensils in a normal manner. Now they operate knives in their
dominant hands to push food on inverted forks held in their other hands.
When
the temperature would get into the 90’s earlier in the summer, we'd hop in
Andy’s truck for a 2-mile drive to the local
7-Eleven for a
six-pack of Bud. Now, when the temperature gets above 30º (Celsius,
of course—what ever happened to centigrade, anyway?), we motor 11
kilometers (or worse, 11 klics) across town in his lorry to Bonjour
Beveragés to purchase liters of water (water!) in green glass bottles from
Italy or France or San Marino—wherever that is.
They
used to use efficient superlatives like “way cool” and “totally awesome,
dude” when describing their journeys. Now they proclaim that their vacat…
I mean their holiday
was “fabulous.”
They
used to write in understandable English. But they sent us a card (which they “posted” rather than “mailed”) describing the
"colour" of the countryside, the "behaviour" of the local
population, and how they thought the "theatre" to be just fabulous—there’s
that word again—during their vacation holiday.
They
used to be coffee drinkers. Now they are espresso aficionados.
They used to
have me over for a brewski. Now I get invited for a pint—unless all they
have is that effeminate water in green glass bottles.
Now I
could almost overlook all this pretension if it weren't for this
one, over-the-top, chop-breaker: Our neighbors emerged from their European holiday
not as Andy and Fran but as André and Françoise.
Auuugh!
If you are a Yankee who has yet to visit Europe, please go. Get it
over with. But then, unlike André and Françoise, get over it.
Ciao.
© 2002 Applied Psychology
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