Wipe Your Feet

As promised, here is my first humiliating story. This one just happened to occur on my travels in France. It is one of Jacqueline's favorite stories. To fully understand the humor and humiliation of this story, it needs a little preface.

First, cast introduction. Jacqueline, 24, from Northern CA, is one of best friends. She is amazing, fun, a very serious procrastinator, easy-going, and tells great stories. Michelle, 24, from LA, was my roommate for two years in CA. She loves making fun of me, making people believe her lies, and she is terrible at returning phone calls. She is however, a wonderful person with a big heart, and if she didn't cook for me in college, I may have starved. Reena, 24, from WI, was also my roommate for two years in CA. Reena is best described as a selfless, adventurous, shop-ahholic, who is usually talking a bit louder than everyone else....ok, a lot louder, but I love her and she has a way of saying things that makes me laugh almost every time she speaks. I met all of these amazing ladies, who have become three of my very best friends, for the first time in Lyon, France. If I do say so myself, we were the most fun foursome of the group (yeah I know how that sounds). We were the easy-going, fun-loving group, always ready for a new adventure. That being said, this is not an "adventurous" story. That is the cast. Now to set the scene.

French people are, besides having terrible body odor, very particular and clean when it comes to their homes. They also seem to be a more serious culture. Most things we think are funny, absolutely horrify and disgust the French. So, say what you want about the French, but DAMN can they cook! Lucky enough, they also love having dinner parties. They are a big deal.

The infamous dinner party was to take place at Michelle's host parents' house. This was a bigger deal than usual because the year was half over and Michelle had not invited us to her house. She always said it was just way too awkward. Her host parents were OLD and SUPER serious. I still don't know if she was more embarrassed about us meeting them or them meeting us, but anyhow, we finally got the invite.

We, being the famous foursome, showed up to her parent's house at exactly 7:00PM for dinner. They greeted us at the door with a bisous (kiss). Before they could officially welcome us into their museum style home (you know the type of home you walk into and don't feel like you can touch anything because it is way too clean, neat, and expensive), they needed to be sure that we had wiped our shoes. We all answered a very polite, but nonchalant, "Yes." Just like that, we were at the dinner table.

Michelle was right. Dinner was awkward as hell. Yummy, but sooo uncomfortable. No one said hardly anything. For some bizarre reason, Michelle's host mom would randomly pipe up and ask us all if we had wiped our shoes. The way kept repeating the question made me think either 1) She doesn't believe that we understand French and wants to be really sure 2) She is old, and old people sometimes forget things and repeat themselves, or 3) She literally can't think of anything else to ask.

Finally the meal was over and we were "released" and incredibly relieved to get away from the table. We all felt the urge to get away so we could speak English and not feel rude. We toured the housing walking all over their beautiful home and then went upstairs to Michelle's bedroom to relax. We all laughed at the incredible awkwardness of the evening and we all expressed sympathy for Michelle that she had to go through that every night. None of us could figure out the paranoia of the shoe wiping question, but it provided us with a good laugh. As we were laughing and gasping for air in Michelle's small room, everyone's face began to turn from smiles to.... disgust. "What is that smell?!" all of asked almost simultaneously.

It was obvious from the stench that the dinner had not agreed with someone in the room..... AT ALL! Eeeeew! Usually smells like that go away after opening doors and windows, but this smell was not. "Ok, whoever it was should probably go use the restroom," I strongly suggest in a joking manner. Then I really began to think that someone had already gone. YUCK!!! In the middle of thinking to myself that one of my friends had just gone #2 in their pants, I looked down, trying to shield whatever face I might be making from the stinky pants person, I saw it!

Somehow I had gracefully managed to step in dog poop. Funnier still, is that it wasn't just a little. It was actually THE ENTIRE piece of poop. It was amazingly still intact and stuck perfectly to the bottom of my white tennis shoe! Visible from outer-space, this piece of dog poop was surely visible to Michelle's host mom from the moment we walked in. I felt so bad. I walked all over her house and spread poop everywhere. She probably had a few choice words for me while she was cleaning it up.

Here are the two cultural morals I can offer from this story:
1) Americans, it is rude not to wipe your shoes when you walk into someones house.
2) French, instead of asking the Americans if they wiped their shoes, just tell us that we have a giant turd on the bottom of our shoe. Then, most of us, will really wipe our shoes and won't accuse you of being an old French bore with Alzheimer's.