"When good Americans die, they go to Paris." - Oscar Wilde

Monday, December 20, 2010

Why le Consulat Général de France should provide complementary chardonnay

Today's appointment with the French Consulate was nothing less than traumatizing. First, they lock you in a small holding room not unlike a jail cell. You're surrounded by quivering Study Abroad students, all of whom are studying in Paris, none of whom speak French, so when they realize they've forgotten to fill out their OFII form, you have to translate it for them. You all bond over being terrified and when it's your turn, you walk up to the window and have a man yell at you through the glass. His French accent is so thick that he has to repeat his instructions several times, but you think you've got it. At least it's in English, right? Then...


You're blushing. How could you have forgotten that? You went over your documents, double-checked them! Merde.

Thankfully, that man is kind. He knows how much you love his country. How you pulled countless all-nighters this semester, studying Zola and Hugo. Or maybe he doesn't know that, but he's nice enough to let you mail it later anyway.

Then he takes your picture (Smile, you are studying in France!), your fingerprints, and dismisses you. You leave feeling like you're going to projectile vomit all over the Lenox Building. But whether you're feeling confident or not, you need a drink after your appointment. Preferably a cool chardonnay because despite everything you stay loyal to that bleu, blanc, et rouge.

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