We recently took a family vacation to Quebec. A good time was had by all, but I found my parent's reaction/interraction with Quebec and the Quebecois to be particularly amusing.
My Mother:
Her only experience with Quebec, before this trip, was at a parade in the Western Canadian town of her youth. Someone had built a float in the shape of the province of Quebec. On that float was written, "Float Quebec back to France". She recalled cheering.
Once in Quebec, as a mature adult who understands and appreciates the differences of the human kaleidoscope, my mother refused to speak any of her rudimentary French. She would walk up to complete strangers and say, "Excuse me." The startled Quebecois would then struggle in broken english to answer her question as my mother refused to have her bilingual son do any of the talking (considering the fact that I'm making fun of her on this blog she was probably afraid I would tell a joke about her in French to the stranger).
After each awkward exchange I would say, "Mom, I think it's really important to say, 'Parlez vous Anglais,' before you start speaking in english.
My mother would simply retort, "I said 'Excuse Me,'" As though that were some United Nation's approved international interruption technique.
My Father:
My father proved to be more at home in Quebec. We were walking on St. Catherine's street, Montreal's Rodeo Drive, Michigan Avenue, or 5th Avenue, looking for a restaurant. We also discovered that this street was oddly peppered with adult bookstores and strip clubs, which would be placed comfortably alongside something as inoccuous as "The Foot Locker". While passing a particular store called "Super Sex" my father exclaimed to my mother, "I found a place to eat! You can have the Soup."
