sour service

So my friend Brooke came into Paris over the weekend and me and another friend of hers (Nancy) came into Paris to hang out. I arrived in Paris at around 8pm, dropped off my bags in our hotel, and together we roamed the cute little area our hotel was in. We found a quaint alleyway with small shops and restaurants and decided to drop into one of them for some cider and crepes.

Brooke got apple crepes and Nancy ordered lemon crepes (I didn’t order anything since I had just stuffed my face with a Mac Tasty and wasn’t feeling particularly hungry).

So we’re sitting and chatting and their crepes arrive and they chow down when Nancy realizes that her crepe has no lemon flavor to them. The following occurs:

Nancy [to the waiter]: Do you speak English?
Waiter: Yes.
Nancy: Ok. I ordered a lemon crepe but I don’t think there’s any lemon in here. [I have to note here that Nancy is speaking normally]
Waiter: WHOA LADY, RELAX! [whilst throwing hands up in a defense manner and speaking in a tone usually reserved for women in hysterics]

Brooke, Nancy, and I look at each confused like dude, what’s that all about. In the meantime he goes over to the counter, grabs a lemon container about the size of Snapple bottle, comes back to our table and then proceeds to dump about half the contents of the lemon container on to Nancy’s crepe. He would’ve dumped more had she not stopped him. Her crepe is now drowning in lemon syrup.

Waiter: Good?
Nancy: Um. Yeah.

Now I’ve heard about Parisian jerks before but this was my first experience with such an extreme case. For the next half an hour we tried to dissect what had occurred but still could not figure out why he was behaving in such a way.

After Brooke and Nancy finished with their crepes he came to take the plates away and made it a point to politely ask Nancy if she’d like another crepe. She declined.

C’est bizzaire.