Incident in Montmarte 2

We went to Montmartre on a Saturday thinking we’d only been there at night and even though it is tourist central, it would still be a nice walk on a sunny day. The great thing about going to the parts of the city that are total tourist zoos is that it makes you remember the area we live in is pretty lightly trampled. Its also fun to see the all the varieties of outfits and confusion, delight and annoyance. This brings me to the bizzarro series of events and the illustration of French logic. All of a sudden hunger hit and we were eat seeking missiles. Unfortunately, it was after 2:30 so, the restaurants were closing or closed, the workers smoking at the tables out front. The cafes and bistros were at full tilt, lots of fries and roasted chicken and these huge French salads full of meat fried potatoes, foie gras, and boiled potatoes and oh, yeah lettuce. So, at this point we knew the food would not be great so just find a table with a good view of the passing crowds and settle. So, we sat down next to a very nice French lady who was reading a book. I could tell she wanted to chat, but we were busy playing ‘when will the waiter finally look at us’. It was great to watch people from all over the world searching for this and that and who did what, where. We had a table that faced the junction of several cobbled roads at the very top of a hill and there was a thin flow of automotive traffic working its way through the tour groups. All of a sudden there was simultaneous booing, hissing and clapping coming from the same group in the street. Four 20 somethings in a blue Fiat, that in the US would have been called a jalopy, were forcing their way through the crowd in the street. The little car had legless lawn chairs for seats, chained to the car with red plastic covered bike locks. It had no door on the passenger’s side. It had no roof. The girl driving just stopped the car and everyone hopped out.
Now, most cars here are tiny Smart cars and hatchbacks, so they can wiggle their way past the car parked just around a turn and 3/4 of the way into the street. It was audacious even by French driving standards to block such a busy, tiny street that way. The driver and her 3 passengers disappeared. We were kibitzing about how rude it was and whether it was street legal, the woman next to us made a hmph-like remark. People started to pose by the car and take photos. A little girl even got in the seat and pretended to drive for her Mom’s shot. Then the city bus came. With no where to go, it just sat there. The driver started to use his cell phone, a crowd began to gather, everyone looking to see who would the jerk was who blocked the road. The restaurant owners and workers came out to smoke around the car and theorize about maybe someone should do something about this. The buses passengers gave up and straggled of the bus. The driver was laughing and talking to people on the street as he sat waiting for Godot. We had ordered, gotten our giant salads and were halfway through when a policeman showed up. He went into a couple of the empty restaurants and got some men, the driver got up and the picked up the car and began to scoot it over. Like a flash from nowhere, the blond male 20 something runs up “Non!non!non!”, “What were they doing? How could they do that to his car?” He gestured wildly and feigned indignation. So beautifully French! Another 10 minutes or so and the other three showed up. They casually got back in the car and drove away, to a few boos and hisses. As they drove away the girl in the back waved goodbye to their audience. The bus driver got back in the bus and headed down the hill, a constant flow of unclogged traffic several blocks long followed. The woman next to me, leaned over and said in English, “I hate that, their parents must be very important.”