While in Paris after the ConsEuro 2013 Dental Congress we were quite late leaving the subway. Wife Bonnie inserted her exit card into the turnstile and waited for me on the other side. My card didn’t work. Again, it didn’t open the gate. Not on the third try. So I motioned the line of young Frenchies to go ahead. Their cards didn’t work either. None opened it.
“We’re all stranded under the Champs-Élysées!” I thought, while they laughed and jumped over the turnstile.
“Enjamber! Enjamber!” they hollered and chided, in French, of course. Well, this lanky old athlete stepped up and jumped, hooked a foot on the bar, and fell back on my butt and head onto concrete. Ouch! And Ouch!
My wife was about to call the “Aahm-beu-lawns!” Ambulance, of course. It wasn’t two seconds and the whole gang of kids, babbling a language I love but can’t master, lifted me to my feet, brushed me off. A pretty young mademoiselle explained,” Vous pouvez enjamber. Enjamber.”
Huh? No Francais.
“Enjamber! Step over it.” Bonnie translated. “Enjamber! Just step over the bar.” I did, to the cheers of the crowd. The young chatterboxes helped us out of the subway and disappeared into the Paris night under the Eiffel Tower, aglow in all its colors.
It’s nice to be a dentist. It’s nicer to be a clumsy tourist and have your faith in youth renewed at the hands of the “gracieuse jeune Français.”
Mark, DDS