As I mentioned in the previous post, we're spending Spring Break week in Boca Raton, Florida, visiting family. Neither David nor I care much for Florida — we find it a very weird place, much more “foreign” to us than living in France ever was! But I have to say, we do manage to find much that amuses us here, from the drive-through daiquiri places to the bars that try to lure you in by offering a boxing ring in which you can pummel your best friends. And, of course, there are the old people. Everywhere you go, everyone is old.
The first night we were here my grandparents had us pick up Chinese takeout at one of the many, many strip malls near them. It was Saturday at 6pm, and the place was mobbed. They had told me our food would be ready in 30-40 minutes when I called, but I waited an additional 30-40 minutes beyond that, watching the natives. The constant arguments between the host and the clientele (who kept complaining and then commenting about how they keep coming back) was hilarious. My favorite was when two women who had turned down the table offered to them tried to take the next available table that they liked. Our host went running after them “You no go sitting yourselves!” while everyone else yelled at him about this or that.
In the end, the food was really only mediocre, but the opportunity to appreciate the fact that I don't have to live here? Priceless.
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