Similar to SNAKES ON A PLANE. But not really.

I have a couple things that I care to share after an evening of fine dining at a French Bistro this past Friday (my delay in posting is phenomenal). The relationship presented can also function inversely, where I share to care.

As said by a guest pastor at church today, "I don't use powerpoint, but my points are all POWER POINTS."

He laid it down straight.

Five POWER POINTS observed whilst eating le food de les French.

BUTCHER'D.

1. Chilled melon soup is not a good choice for an appetizer.
Given the choice between that, and a house salad, I obviously opted for the new and unexplored territory that was this exotic melon soup. It came out looking like green apple slush found at local bubble tea dealers everywhere. And it tasted like bad honeydew. Granted, I think all honeydew tastes bad, but when my parents both shook their heads in disgust of the "soup", I had a basis for my accusation.

I still ate it all, sour-grape-faced and all. Didn't want to start off the night bad by disrespecting the chef, which I thought I would've done if I didn't finish the soup.

2. The French know their fries.
This cannot be explained. It is simply understood.

A corollary to this is that the French also know their poutines.

3. SNAKES ON A PLANE.

4. If I need to bust out a French-to-English dictionary to figure out which washroom I should walk into, the system needs tweaking.

Luckily because of the 1/125th hood in my blood, I figured out "hommes" and "dames". Only a couple letters off from the more commonly used words "homies" and "dimes".

Unfortunately, the same could not be said of my father, who had to come back upstairs from where the washrooms were located to ask which one he should enter. I told him he should've just waited outside for the next person to enter/leave a washroom to judge for himself. He did not find that as amusing as I did.

One more washroom thing. Apparantly over in Europe, the setup I'm about to describe is employeed commonly. But for me, it was just awkward.

Instead of the individual genders having separate washbasins, there was one big one located in between the two washrooms. At first glance, it was a decent idea. Saves the cleaners from having to clean an unnecessary amount of sinks, and leads to more interactions between the genders.

But after using this one big sink basin in the company of others, it just felt wrong. Just like the fries, I couldn't explain it.

And now I don't know where I'm going with this. But it's plenty awkward, so let's move on.

SNAKES ON A PLANE

5. Mousse does NOT EQUAL Mousse CAKE.
As with all of the above items, I found this out the hard way. I had just downed an incredible meal of fries with some steak on the side, and I was looking forward to downing some incredibly rich chocolate mousse cake with possible chocolate sauce drizzled over it, and maybe some strawberries (good food fuels my imagination, bad food fuels my anger). Out comes the waiter with a cup of chocolate pudding, or so I thought, and he proceeds to lay it in front of me and in his quasi-French accent exclaims "Enjoy your dessert sir".

I ate it all just to spite the misleading menu. Spited it good. I did.