Les Miserables

Quite recently (two days ago to be exact), my husband and I went to Tarbes. He had to see a Cardiologist in one of those expensive/modern/scary looking clinics. By the time we found the clinic my husband didn’t want to see the doctor, as the clinic didn’t know what an EHIC was. (That's a British NHS card to provide half price or free medical treatment for British abroad)Instead he took me out for a lunch to Buffalo Grill, as I am a great lover of very very very blue steaks. First of all I had to check out if the dogs are allowed inside, because it was a very hot day and I just couldn’t leave my four-legged son in the hot little navy blue KA.
Fortunately we live in France now. Even though French don’t call themselves animal lovers as English do, it’s million times easier to rent here a house/apartment which in England if you have a dog is nearly impossible. Even in the restaurants and cafes it’s not a problem, dogs are simply royalty here and I love it, my little Charlie loves it as well! Since we moved here everyone loves our dog more than they do us, but it’s not a problem. Even ladies in the market get concerned if Charlie is not with me! Anyway back to Buffalo Grill.
We entered the restaurant, all three of us (the first time for me and Charlie), young sort of metro-d’ (if he deserves that kind of name in Buffalo Grill, not sure if I spelled it correctly though) and asked us if we are smoking, and because we are he guided us to the right-hand side of the restaurant. As we were entering the smoking area, Charlie scared one 50 something lady straight in front of us, which worked out later, happened to be sitting at the table next to ours. Charlie is the friendliest little dog in the world, but when he’s hot he can look rather scary! We got to our table, Charlie got comfortable underneath, the lady that he scared earlier made her husband swap the seats, so that he was sitting back to us and she can stare at us and give us THE LOOK!
Nothing bothers me, when I am waiting for a bit of a good stake, especially when I know it’s going to be very blue. Charlie calmed down and fell asleep. My husband and I ordered the meal and we were sipping bière pression. I was impatiently waiting for that nice red steak and it just took its time. In the meantime a miserable looking couple came in. They both wore worn out tracksuits and if they didn’t speak so well in French I would’ve said they were Lithuanians. They ordered immediately as soon as they took the seats, and after the waitress’ departure the miserable looking woman started staring at: my husband, our dog and me. I know it’s difficult for that miserable kind to resist; as the age difference between my husband and me stands out quite well. I don’t really mind those looks anymore, we have been together over two years now and the looks have become part of our life; but this woman’s look became annoying and hard to bare.
To take my mind of the miserable the steak arrived. To my shock it wasn’t what I ordered; I asked for the Cow Boy and I got the Classic, unfortunately (for me) I am too much of a coward to complain so I simply accepted it. The second shock came about 1 minute afterwards when I started slicing my steak. It wasn’t blue it was medium cooked! Once more I simply accepted the fact that I am not getting the steak I want today. I simply don’t enjoy well or medium cooked meat. I am sorry to all the vegetarians in the world but if I eat meat it’s got to be red. Slowly I was chewing (eternally) my overcooked steak with chips and once more the miserable reminded me of her presence.
I complained to my husband. He turned to the miserable immediately and gave her that “my eyes are going to pop out” – look. It worked she looked immediately down into her plate, though five minutes later she started again. I finished that horrible steak eventually ( I must admit I shared quite a big part of it with Charlie) and I knew as a compensation I deserved a delicious desert – banana split in particular. The lady kept staring at me. My husband kept staring back at her it was becoming more and more fun. Finally the miserable received their bill, paid while smiling (which looked really unnatural to them) and left. Just as they walked out the door the miserable wanted to give me that final look when my husband turned at her, opened his mouth and eyes really wide (as in The Lion King position in Yoga) and she turned away to be miserable for the rest of the day…
And now I am left wandering was it worth going to Buffalo Grill just for that? Was it childish or rude? Whatever it was – it was fun. Life is too short to be miserable all the time!