Bastille Day: A Reason to Eat like an American.

For me, Bastille Day began in McDonalds. Amsterdam was stuck in my mind, and I felt this distance; vacancy in my head. But it was France's biggest holiday, and I wasn't going to sit in my dark gray dorm room, trying to pick up the pieces of my brain. I was ready to see some fireworks.

So Kathrina, Deborah and I, who were abandoned by the rest of our friends - too impatient to wait five minutes for us to get ready-stopped in to Mickey D's to get some food on the way to the Eiffel Tower. Reveling in the freedom of public drinking, I was enjoying my mini-bottle of chardonnay as we waited to purchase our grease. It's funny, I never eat McDonalds when I'm in the states but I get these cravings for it when I'm here.

This security dude immediately approaches me, gesturing with his hands to my bottle since I could not understand his French. 'You can drink in public, but not in Mcdonalds'. Ah yes, I understood. But for some reason, I didn't apologize, or make any attempt to throw the bottle out. I just stood there, bewildered, staring at the bottle and said (too loud, of course) "Oh, it's empty!" like this was the most profound thing I had ever discovered.

I finally thew out the empty bottle, but that was not the last we saw of the security guard. As we waited on a seemingly endless line, his eyes were so locked on us that I felt like a terrorist in Grand Central Station. Then Deborah says " I really hope this cork doesn't pop while we are in here!", referring to the champagne she had already opened, resting in the pouch of her purse. Of course, two seconds later...Pop!...it soars into the air and lands right at the feet of the security guard. Who picked it up and gave it back to her as we fell into a state of hysterics. The night never went back to gray after that. My laughter had cured my post-Amsterdam syndrome. In my head, that was the start of Bastille Day.



We ate our Mcdonald's by the Seine, and then tried to get as close to the Eiffel Tour as possible., weaving through thousands upon thousands of people, trying not to lose each other. We found a decent place to sit just minutes before the fireworks started. It was nice, the spirit of it all. People were singing, cheering. For one night, I didn't feel like the loudest person in all of France.