During dinner at this little French restaurant where Gilles works, so as not to offend anyone, I let Gilles and Olivia order me pate de foie gras. I almost threw up. Girls: picture the same reaction as me taking a shot of, let's say, tequila… except somehow I managed not to run to the bathroom and actually throw up. I was able to choke down half of it down by smothering it with salt, pepper and other spices, accompanyed it with bread, and chased it with red wine and water… the fact that I left half of it untouched on my plate earned me the name “Rican” which apparently is the equivalent of us calling a Frenchman a “French Frog.” Like, "Hey, look at that French frog over there haha!' Not exactly derogatory, but not exactly the most endearing nickname ever.. When the manager called me that, he was only teasing, of course, because they had just called someone else that for real…. he thought it would be fun to comment on my wasted pate de foie gras, a true French delicasy. Talk of the “Rican” drew attention from nearby tables… especially the one behind Olivia, who was directly across from me. A very friendly, yet outspoken and boisterous man who I soon discovered is “Jean Noel Martin,” a French actor and comedian who felt the need to translate his name for me: "John Christmas Martin." He chatted with Gilles and Olivia, and kept glancing my way... after he discovered that I'm American, he went into a little comedy routine about Americans and American "things." Being a comedian and actor (see business card), Jean clearly doesn’t mind being the center of attention or causing a scene. He started with his best impression of Americans, pointing out that all Americans add the word f*cking to their sentences.. “Hey! Would you look at that f*cking cut of meat!?” “How about that f*cking table over there??” etc etc. At this point I am annoyed, quiet and feeling like I’m quite the butt of many jokes between all of the locals…. everyone is talking in French and I understand about 1 out of every 100 words, so I have no idea what's going on. Every once in a while Gilles or Olivia would turn to me and politely translate., or they would switch to English for me.. Then I noticed that Jean was actually paying special attention to me. He was chatting me up across our tables, continuously smiling at me, and at one point in the middle of his meal, he got up and came over to give me his business card. He pleaded (literally) for me to call him later or the next day, whenever, so he could show me around Paris. He asked repeatedly where I was staying and where I was moving to when I changed hotels. He made me promise to call him. I politely agreed. Later Gilles informed me that he had to tell Jean to cool it and explained to him that I was a business client of his, haha.
We continued our dinner and later Gilles and I engage in lengthy business talk and Olivia turns around and Jean Noel strikes up more conversation with her. I found out later the extent of their conversation went something like this: Jean had a “flash-light” as they say. Meaning, he had an instant realization that he thought I’m beautiful. He repeatedly told Olivia I’m very sweet (must be because I’m humbled and quiet going into a foreign country where I’m under the impression that everyone will hate me). As Jean and his friends were leaving somehow it came up that a picture should be taken… Olivia took several with my camera for me… I figured why not, maybe someday soon this guy will be famous?! You'll see that Jean is not-so-discreetly resting his head on my left boob - he was literally nuzzling his cheek into it.. it was odd, uncomfortable and awkward all at once, but at the same time sort of funny.. you'll see in the next picture that he proceeds to kiss my hand incessantly. I literally had to jerk my hand away to get it back from him. While all of this is going on his friends join the picture then one of them keeps taking pictures of the spectacle, mostly from above us looking down, which I found odd.. I was like what the hell could he possibly be taking a picture of?! You can see him in the background of one of my pictures.. I’m convinced he was capturing Jean and my boobs, or just my boobs, which I am told French men love. I guess I'll never know.
I never did call Jean.. Sorry, Ang.. as of now I am still winning the bet :) I do not consider Jean Noel Martin to be a serious contender… however, it has occurred to me that this situation could continue to be entertaining.. any requests for me to e-mail him?? :)
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