“Wow!” My husband and I stood under the Eiffel Tower and craned our necks looking upwards. “I’ve seen it on TV,” he said, “but this is… Wow!”
I’d been to Paris before and taken the elevator to the top. I wanted my husband to have the same impressive experience so despite the cold December wind that afternoon (I know, I know. Who goes toParisin the winter? A little detour on our way to Africa), we joined the crowd waiting to ascend.
As the wind buffeted us, we all huddled closer together, chatting in a Babel of languages. When the elevator finally arrived and people disembarked on the other side, we pushed forward eager to get on and out of the wind.
A British woman with her arms around her young children huffed, “The French are so pushy.”
I said, “Excuse me. We’re all tourists. There are no French people here.”
She looked around at the crowd, looked down at her children, looked at me, huffed again, and said, “The French are still pushy.”