The following column is the opinion and analysis of the writer.
When I told Ellen my cartoonists syndicate had invited me to attend an annual gathering of hundreds of cartoonists from all over the world in Saint-Just-le-Martel, a dairy farming village south of Paris, she was skeptical. βParis, Texas?β
βParis, France. Itβs the 38th Salon of Caricature, Drawing Press and Humor. The best cartoonist in the world wins a cow.β
βHoly cow.β
βNope. What cartoonist would want a sacred cow?β
I told her weβre going to stay with a French host family. And then I asked the million-euro question: βHowβs your French? You took it in high school, right?β
She smiled. βOui.β
The next day she asked, βWhat gift can we give our host family?β
βIβll draw a caricature of the whole family!β
βTheyβve probably been drawn by every cheapskate cartoonist who has freeloaded off them for years. Letβs give them something special. β
βWhat? Salsa? Wine from Sonoita? My old Tombstone Epitaph T-shirt? Iβve got it! Letβs give them a cow.β
I got the look.
βWhy donβt you shop for something β¦ while I study my French.β
Iβve been ignoring my Duolingo app alerts. βMonsieur, you are blowing off ze language lesson again!β I push the βOuiβ smiley face.
I plan on hiding behind my wife, βma femme.β When we hail a taxi, Iβll say, βBonjour, monsieur,β and then, in a tribute to Marcel Marceau, I shall, with great flourish, point to my wife, say, βOoh la laβ and wait for her to speak perfect French while I just smile.
Iβve learned three phrases. βOui,ββOΓΉ sont les dessinateurs?β which means βWhere are the cartoonists?β and βJe suis dΓ©solΓ© de tβavoir piquΓ© dans les yeux avec mon bΓ’ton de selfie.β Iβm sorry I poked you in the eye with my selfie stick. βJe suis un AmΓ©ricain!β
I made a reservation online at the βHotel French-Name-I-Canβt-Pronounce,β in the Latin Quarter of Paris, where most of the American cartoonists will be staying for a few days of ink-sotted misbehavior, before we all take the train to St. Just, for the festival.
As soon as I got the online βreservation confirmedβ I returned to studying old Jacques Cousteau specials.
Next morning I opened an email from the βHotel French-Name-I-Canβt-Pronounceβ addressing me as βMonseiur.β I feared the worst. French.
I wish it had been in French. βYou card did not go through,β was followed by the terrifying request: βPlease call. Merci.β
Call? What? And talk to an actual French person? In French? I panicked for two reasons.
Whenever I talk to people with foreign accents I unconsciously begin to mimic them. If I talk to a Brit, within five minutes Iβm talking like Earl Fitzsimmons from Downton Abbey. I canβt help it.
I learned French from watching the βPink Pantherβ movies featuring Inspector Clouseau uttering such memorable French phrases as βDo you have a lie-sohns for your min-key?β A phrase thatβs good to know if I need to say, βMay I have a lie-sohns for my cow?β
Will I use Inspector Clouseauβs, βI was βappy to have a rhe-um at ze βotelβ or βI am here to feeks your pheaunβ? Doubtful. However, if Gerard Depardieu falls from the Eiffel Tower and lands in front of us I will be able to say, in my best French, to Gerard, βI believe you have rah-cei-ved a bimp on your βead.β
Ellen is wise. βMon Dieu, fool. Donβt ask Parisians if they speak English! Make an effort to speak French first. They will appreciate you making an effort, and, because you will be talking like a French 2-year old, they will pity you and they will speak English.β
Merci, Edith Piaf. If I call the βHotel French-Name-I-Canβt-Pronounceβ and the nice man on the phone speaks French, and no English, I am still up ze River Seine without a paddle.
Translator app open, I dial. I rehearsed βBonjour, monsieur!β over and over until I sounded as smooth as Pepe Le Pew. A cheerful manβs voice answered from the other side of the planet. βBonjour. Hotel Name-I-Can-Pronounce.β
I sputter βBonjour, monsieurβ sounding like a cross between Maurice Chevalier and Gomer Pyle. After a moment of silence the man clears his throat. βMr. Fitzsimmons? Thank you for calling us back. If you can give us your correct number weβll hold the room for you.β
English! I dodged a bullet. I was so relieved. We resolved the matter at hand. I was fine until the end of the call when he said, βAdieu, monsieur.β
Without thinking I replied, in my best Peter Sellersβ voice, βMonsieur! I was very βappy to have a rhe-um at your βotel.β