When I was younger I traveled a LOT.
A skateboarding concussion left me dazed and often confused. Because I couldn’t remember what day it was an alternating college schedule, midterms and full time job didn’t work out. I took some time off to recover and see the world.
London.
Scotland.
Puerto Rico.
The Caribbean…twice.
Paris.
My 19th year lead me places most people only dream of seeing.
While, which is better, street smarts vs book smarts is probably still up for debate, I found valuable street smart information in a back alley farmers market on the streets of Paris.
That particular adventure consisted of some girlfriends backpacking across Europe. In reality, girlfriends, yes, backpacks…no. We had rolling cases instead. If you get a chance, go with a backpack, the cobblestone streets are not ideal on suitcase wheels.
It was my first time going to Paris. I didn’t know any French other than the swear words my parents referred to as THEIR French. I picked up a French dictionary and tried to learn as much as I could before the journey. I’d like to say that I could speak full sentences, but ten choppy, mispronounced, words were the extent of my French.
It turns out my vocabulary helped out tremendously. It didn’t seem to matter that I didn’t know the language but that I TRIED to speak it.
In the farmers market I fell behind our posse, as I often do, and I overheard some French men talking about the rude American girls. Ironically when my friends approached these lads they only spoke French, stating they didn’t know English but after my friends took their question elsewhere they spoke perfect English to each other. They were commenting on how all American’s assume that everyone speaks English and it was rude to assume anything.
A lightbulb went off!
NO WONDER everyone was talking to me…”bonjour” was one of the 10 words I practiced and I ALWAYS started out with that. After the light was on I noticed that my friends always started with their questions first, expecting answers. Following right behind them with, “Bonjour, parleys-tu Anglais?” I would get a friendly response every time.
The French men thought I was Swedish and I didn’t correct them 🤣.
It was an incredible lesson to learn at such a young age, one that I still think about daily. Fast forward 24 years and I still practice greeting first then asking the question but Saturday I would find myself in a situation with Rude American Men.
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I miss live music.
I crave it.
From ages 18-25 I went to 3+ shows a week. Local shows, big headliner shows and everything in between. My favorites were always the festivals. But it’s been a minute since I’ve been to a show, Covid didn’t help out. But my men are older now and have started a band, the older one is more interested in music but the little guy knows a lot about it too. When the older one brought up going to Avenged Sevenfold, I couldn’t help but smile.
I’ve seen them play before, I’ve talked with them, it would be a great first show for both of them.
We didn’t tell them. We just went downtown to hang out. The tour buses surrounded the backside of Target Center and one of the doors to the venue were open, we asked the boys if we should sneak in but the older one isn’t a rebel and didn’t “feel like getting arrested”.
We noticed a long line forming around the side of the building and others were just walking through the doors. We told the kids we wanted to see what the deal was.
I approached some guys, waiting in the quickly growing line and I said, “Hi! Can I ask you a question?”
”No.”
He didn’t even make eye contact with me. As I was trying to scrape my jaw off the pavement, his friend answered. It was the general admission line, the other line was the seats line. I thanked him and used my parent’s style French on the other. It went something like…. “Thank you, and Fuck you”.
I don’t know what came over me. I would NEVER say that to someone. Maybe his energy came out of my mouth… I don’t know but It’s my unholy confession.
His “friend” told me that he was actually his brother and that I was rude, I asked him how I was rude when all I did was say hi and ask a simple question…he didn’t answer so I thanked him for his answer and walked away, but I’m still bothered by the interaction. I wish I could be the one, The one who won’t care at all (Unholy Confession lyrics) but It’s just not me.
I do care.
As I was sitting in our birds view seats, that were clearly left for the last minute ticket buyers, I thought about that kid I told to F off. I thought about how I’ve been an Avenged Sevenfold fan probably longer than he’s been alive. I thought about how rude he initially was but how I was more rude. I thought about how he could have been going through something and didn’t want to be bothered.
I also reflected on my older self. I reflected on how I want to be to others and the example I’m setting for my men. If I was given the chance, I would have apologized to the kid.
Every person we meet whether brief or a long standing relationship has a purpose in our journey. I can only think this kid was sent as a warning to not turn into an old crab ass like my irritable grandpa… the kid was definitely a wake up call that I needed.
The streets again have shown their wisdom.
And lastly, they may not wear makeup better than I do any more but they still put on one HELL of a show.
Namaste, Jes xoxo