I was sitting on the train from
Versailles back to
Paris
. Just before the train left, a group of loud American tourists filled the benches behind me. They each wore shirts that said things like "I love Paris" or "Got Rome?" proudly emblazoned under pictures of "must-see famous stuff." The following
experience confirmed to me that the American tourist is one of the most
unpleasant creatures on the face of the planet, which almost justifies the
rude way the
French treat them.
For the next hour I heard one woman in particular from this group complaining--loudly--to her sympathetic and equally inane travelling companions about how hot it was and how the French were so rude and she couldn't believe how they didn't have all the signs doubled in English. She assured her friends that in America we are always so accommodating to foreigners and she hasn't really been there, but she's sure that all the American national monuments are translated into whatever language the tourist needs, and why can't the French do the same? And why can't they speak English to her (she's sure they know how they just won't because they're French). Oh, and can you believe those bathrooms, she wonders? The lines are so long, and, imagine! you have to pay some nominal fee; in America our bathrooms are FREE (and dirty) the way they should be in any democratic, God-fearing nation--and there are more stalls. Oh! She just can't believe how sweltering hot it is and the French don't have drinking fountains. Next time, she assured her friends (and the rest of the train compartment who could still hear), she wasn't going to come to France at all, but rather go to Las Vegas, because, she's heard, they've built an exact replica of the Eiffel Tower there, and it's not as far, they speak English, and she's sure the bathrooms would be in better condition.