In the summer of 1985 Candia and I took the train to Deauville for a vacation from Paris. Deauville itself was out of our budget, so we stayed in the neighboring town, Trouville or ‘city of a hole’. The weather was pleasant and we might have gone swimming during the day. The first night I intended on dining my girlfriend to Les Vapeurs, except the famed seafood retaurant was closed, so we went to another eaterie. Starting with a bottle of Sancerre I decided to be adventurous and ordered something other than sole for my main course, however the raiee au beure noire was abominable and I sent it back. The cook came out and insulted me as an ignorant American. The waiters took his back. He might have been right, but I stood up, told Candida to leave, and then picked up a fork, asking ,”Oui, veux perde un œil?”
The threat of loss of an eyeball was made in Boston-accented French.
The answer was silence, pobably not udnerstanding what I had said, but the fork in my hand translated to danger.
I dropped 200 francs for the bottle of wine and carried it outside.
Out on the foggy street Candida asked, “So now where do we eat?”
We had a crepe.
Candida was not happy, but was happier after I got us cups to drink the wine. It was nice to be out of Paris with someone you loved.