OMG, these days living in Les Etats-Unis is almost like living in France. Without an Eiffel Tower. Or Italy. Without La Scala. And tonight, I'm experiencing a crazy back-to-the-future moment.
It was the summer of 1998. THE love of my life and I were traveling in France. Our trip started in Paris just a week prior to the World Cup action. Parisian union workers were hustling to set up for the big event. (You caught me. Union workers hustling in Paris is an oxymoron.) But if you've never been overseas to watch a foreign city prepare for a major sporting event, I highly recommend it. Catching a glimpse of a Parisian union worker actually working is as rare as -- well, as rare as finding ice in the beverage you've ordered to cool you down.
After taking in the sights of Paris and observing the tired pace of union workers, the second week of our trip took us to zee French Riviera. C'est magnifique! Really magnifique. So magnifique we were forced to stay an extra four days because Air Chance -- er, Air France was striking! When my future ex-husband tried to extract a reasonable explanation for the strike from a Frenchman, he was told, "Eet ees zeee French way!"
A few years later, I experienced deja vu in Italy when I tried, but failed, to see an Opera in Milan at La Scala...chiudere; serrare; tappare; concludere, porre termine a; colmare, guadagnare. (Translation: Closed!) I guess it was the Italian way, too.
Experiencing strikes all over Europe has left me to ponder how countries operate when major attractions or services are halted due to government strikes. Well, tomorrow Americans will learn firsthand how that'll work in Les Estats-Unis. Somehow, I don't think it'll be as magnifique as, say, being stranded in Nice.
C'est la vie!