Another Rude Frenchman

We were standing in line at the railroad station; Jim Neil was helping me buy my return rail tickets to Paris. The clerk did not speak English and we were attempting to bridge the communication gap with the usual hand signals, written notes, and talking louder. “Can I help you?” Asked an attractive, middle aged woman behind us.

Soon she had sorted out our problem and the tickets were in hand. She introduced us to her college aged daughter and explained she was married to a Scotsman and lived locally. Jim gave her a Festina Tarde business card as he explained we and our wives were tied up in the canal harbor for several days. We invited her and her family to stop by.

Sunday afternoon we heard a knock at the wheelhouse door; Natalie our rail station translator and her husband Grahem were there with a chilled bottle of sparkling Brut Rose. The Captain eagerly piped them aboard and we all introduced ourselves.

Jim and Mary gave them a tour of the barge and answered all their questions. Soon some local pate, bread, and full glasses were on the wheelhouse table. The conversation raced around; they told us of their trip to San Francisco and Yosemite with a camping expedition to Grand Canyon.

It was a lazy Sunday filled with fun conversation and a pate worth killing for. Graham sold railroad locomotives and entire rail systems and maintenance programs. They invited us to stop by their home later in the evening.

As the sun approached the yardarm we sat beside their pool with cool beverages and small finger food. We discussed things and laughed; meanwhile I thought: Another rude Frenchman.