I had dinner with my European friends again last night. I very much enjoy getting together with them. This happens maybe once a month. We usually find some pretty nice restaurants in the area, something requiring a bit less than business attire, but a bit more than shorts and a t-shirt. It frequently results in a bash-the-American final round. I think after the first few times of watching me squirm and be uncomfortable, it has become an engaging sport.
My personality is such that I loooooove to shock my wife's extended family with fully inappropriate comments. Such comments result in everyone laughing awkwardly, moaning at me, not really knowing how to react to the ridiculous things that come pouring out of my face hole. I feel like I am trying to be funny during these moments, and occasionally my timing is not bad. I guess what goes around comes around.
Last night, we ended up a few tables away from Zurich's red light district. Kris had originally contacted a restaurant we had previously found. They said they couldn't reserve a table for eight on a Friday night, but they referred us to "other restaurant" they also owned, an Italian restaurant. Since the food was great at the original restaurant, we thought we couldn't go wrong. We weren't that disappointed. The food was not bad. The view from inside the window, however, made for a good laugh with graffiti and industrial buildings nearby.
As the night continued, we evolved into the squirm-testing. The conversation somehow started with cleaning women in the men's restroom, moved to naked sauna laughing, and finally landed on "isn't every white American male a member of the Ku Klux Klan?"
Check, please?
No comments:
Post a Comment