A Well Kept Man

So I have an interesting story that I simply must share.

Most of you know what I look like; ruggedly handsome, well dressed, typical American boy, scrawny physique, awkward movements, etc. And in your minds out there you're probably thinking, he could pass for an Italian, or someone of Hispanic decent, possibly a German, or even an individual from the cradle of civilization (sans facial hair). Nevertheless, for those of you who have been overseas Americans tend to stand out from the rest of the world.

Even in the land of lots of Caucasians (although I can't seem to find a travel guide for this magical place, Caucasia), Americans are the only ones wearing shorts, t-shirts, white socks, and tennis shoes at all times. If there was to be an official American outfit (I think Congress will be introducing a bill on this soon as in an election year they try to avoid anything too scandalous), this would be it, except in winter when the shorts are replaced with blue jeans (not too tight, but not too baggy) and the t-shirt is layered with a sweatshirt indicating where all of our parents money was spent (thanks Dad, loved the 4.5 years in Indiana!).

Real Europeans
Europeans on the other hand always seem to be neatly dressed, nary a wrinkle in their clothes, nor brown belt with black shoes. Perhaps they have on black socks with their tennis shoes, but they are probably working out (aka breaking a sweat on purpose) whereas Americans are just hoping someone will think they are athletic and fall in love and marry and have babies and ignore the fact that their waistline has increased along with their flatulence.

So anyway, here I am along the shores of Lake Geneva taking pictures of Dahlias and enjoying the lovely sunny morning. I am dressed just as the American dressing manual has stated, complete with my cargo sized pockets on my shorts (this is a variation for those wishing to look like they are useful rather than athletic). All of the sudden I am approached by what can only be described as a typical American family. When you travel enough, you just know.

So the dad (wearing the country club version of the American uniform, golf shorts, polo shirt, dock shoes) approaches me holding out his camera (what a coincidence, I have one too...we should be friends, no really, oh my gosh, you like pizza too? let's be pen pals!). I figured this would be a typical "I need you to take a picture of my family to prove to our friends at the country club we were actually in Europe and didn't just go to the Wisconsin Dells for a week because our mortgage is bankrupting us" kind of experience.

Well it was not.

The dad says, "Monsieur" (that's French for hey random guy), "You take photo?" in a somewhat loud and I hope he understands me kind of manner. He also makes the international sign for will you take a picture of me and my family by pointing to the camera, pointing to his wife and daughters who are all rolling their eyes, and then points back at me. So being the fellow American traveler wanting to ease his worries about being in a strange place, I simply say "Oui" (that's French for yes).

Not wanting to blow my cover I pretend to initially understand how the camera works, looking at it like the chimps at the zoo look at the fleas off their buddies head before they eat it (is this poisonous, it smells ok, it tastes ok, ok, I'll eat it). Then I mutter something vaguely resembling French, "Oui, voulais vous, oui, maisson, poisson, etc" and motion for them to get close together.

Then, when I figure the gig is up, I go for broke and say "Un, Deux, Trois" (that's 1,2,3) and take the picture. They smile, the daughters both shyly say "Merci" (thanks, as in, I am so glad my friends weren't here to see this happen, I would have like totally been embarrassed), the dad says "Thanks, oops, Merci" and the mom says "Merci Beaucoop" (Thank you very much).

And I walked away trying not to laugh and ruin this perfect experience for the Americans who successfully negotiated a photo op of the whole family without having the crazy Swiss guy run away with their camera and sell it on Le eBay.

Imposter