Oh, where do I begin?

Let's see...last night I went to the neighborhood cafe.

 Au Rêve aka Cheers

I sat at the bar for two and half hours watching people and attempting to read French magazines.

Here is a picture I found online so you get an idea.

During this time, I saw a few locals who don't speak English so we did the two kisses on the cheek, "bonsoir", end of conversation. 

I had studied articles of clothing that afternoon and could have told a few people that they were wearing pants but decided to save that for another conversation.

"Tu porte un pantalon."

Next in line....an older French man with his pre-teen son ate dinner at the table near my seat. He attempted to speak to me in French...and then switched to really bad English to tell me about his love for t-bone steaks and the Velvet Underground. I nodded and smiled and continued fake reading...while another man reading the paper at the bar could not stop laughing.

Twenty minutes later the annoying man was back to introduce me to his son...who whipped out his new phone and explained to me that it was also an MP trois player.

OMG

I continue fake reading about the royal wedding this weekend....about an hour later a French girl named Katia arrived. I had met her the previous weekend and she is very nice and speaks English. She told me she was going to finish her conversation with her friend outside then I could join them. 

Still at the bar, the annoying man comes back again to say good-bye and asks his son to do the same... this is when the boy has a complete meltdown and starts screaming and crying while pushing his dad away. Everyone in the bar is watching me...then watching the kid and laughing uncontrollably. 

I don't even want to know what as happening at this moment. 

All I knew was that is was time for another glass of wine.

Exit man and son...relief.

I finally joined Katia, Jessica, and Floriant. All from the neighborhood. We had a great conversation for another 2 hours about Paris, NYC, men, women, blah blah blah.

I told them of my love for almond croissants but that the people in the patisserie never understand my French...so I end up pointing.

I demonstrated to the table how I ordered every morning and Katia almost fell out of her chair.

She said I was basically ordering a croissant stuffed with German girls.

The three of them had me repeat the correct pronounciation over and over again. Until finally they said: "viola!" 

Great night.

So this morning I walked confidently to the cafe and said: 

"Je voudrais un croissant aux amandes s'il vous plait."

And the woman responded:

"ils sont finis"

They are finished.