Excusez-moi!

Okay, so I have a kind of funny story that goes a little something like this: I work at Epcot. (Just wait, it gets better.) And as a product of working at Epcot, I get to meet a lot of different kinds of people. Lots of people from Morocco, and Italy, Norway, Great Britain, Canada and France. As well as some Asians, but Jordan has pretty much covered all of that... Well yesterday I got to know France a wee bit better. My bus pulled up to the Chatham not at all too soon because I was in fact surrounded by several highly crude French boys that smelled strongly of cigarette smoke. Yummy. I have found that the French boys in general are kind of disgusting. Bless their hearts. It's fine. And these guys fit the profile. But whatever, I love the world; we all got on the bus, and I ended up sitting right across from the bulk of them. (Gotta love those side seating buses!) Well it was a slightly awkward ride full of much eye contact avoiding. (I hate that.) I didn't really think too much of it. I was pretty out of it anyways. The whole no sleep thing is finally catching up with me... I get off the bus, and show my ID, all of that jazz, and go into the Cast Service Building. I look up, and see one of the French boys doing this weird half walk, half run, half seizure thing towards me. "Oh, crap." Was the first thing that ran through my mind, and I'm not even sure why; but I knew that this was going to be good. He starts talking before he actually gets to me, and I suddenly wasn't sure if he was talking to me or not. But then he gets up in my grill, and I realize that it was all intended for me. He starts saying a lot of things. Some of them were hard to understand because of his very thick French accent, and some of them I just forgot. Here are some of the more memorable highlights. Apparently he was too shy to tell me this on the bus, but he wants to go out sometime. And he was quite frantic about knowing when my days off were. And some other stuff. It's fine. Then he wanted me to say something, but all that came out was this: "Uh, well, um. I...uh. Pfft, wow. Um, what? Um, I'm Emmilie? Yeah. What's your name?" He told me it was Gwen, and I probably stuttered something back at him. It was awkward; it was eloquentish; it was Emmilie. I sounded like a moron because once again, the male sex has caught me off guard and made me look like a total spaz. Thanks guys. You. Rock. Whenever this kind of thing happens, I am always so shocked that I end up stuttering and mumbling like nobody's business. It's kind of funny after, like the rest of my life, but just once I would like to offer complete sentences in response. Dude, whatever. Anyways- this is my favorite part of the story. After my little stutter party, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a little piece of paper. On it: his digits. Word. But my favorite part about that is that I had a perfect view of him from the moment he got on the bus until the moment he turned around to talk to me. He never once wrote anything down. So if I am ever to run into dear Gwen again, I really want to ask him if he just carries around copies of his number for emergencies such as those? I mean, wow; the guy is a planner. Way to go, Gwen. Way to go. Thank you, and goodnight.