Not much, searching the bottom of the barrel for things to write, and it not really a Christmas story, more of a birthday one... mine... my 25th.
But my birthday is Christmas day... you see a little connection.
I had just left the army and like many arriving at Big White, I went to spend a season at a ski resort - in my case - Chatel, in the French Alps.
It is funny how quickly you meet new friends when you are travelling alone... the bar is the perfect place... of course it is. Anyway I had arrived in Switzerland (actually) a week or so before and despite my command of the French language being similar to my command of Hindu, I had managed to
- find accommodation,
- got a job in a French restaurant as a plunger (say it with a French accent), it's a dish-washer.
- and I probably knew most of the brits working in the resort. I went to the bars... easy.
Plunger is a hard job, I literally ran in the kitchen trying to keep up with the mountain of dishes... each morning would start with last nights dinner... and just as I got through that, breakfast was piled high, and before I finished breakfast... lunch arrived... ahhh!
Anyway lets get to the story. At this restaurant there was a French girl... (Frenchy) doing house-maid slash waitress jobs... she did not speak any english. We never conversed (cos we couldn't) and besides she barely acknowledged my existence - 'dumb English hooligan' French accent again please...
So, it is Christmas Eve, and the eve of my 25th birthday. I am with a couple of Friends, both who speak French, one is half Swiss (the French side) so is fluent... We are drinking and having fun when Frenchy arrives... it appears her standards have now dropped and 'I' am on her radar. Actually I am not just on her radar, I am target acquired, missiles are locked and loaded - she is all over me... all over... let me say that again (cos it never happened often, okay okay... never...) All Over me!
Now the language barrier problem... is no longer. I am understanding (with a little help from my friends and the All Over bit) that she is telling me I shouldn't be alone on my birthday... Okay... I can do that, the 'not' being alone thing.
She is sat on my lap, her arms are wrapped around me, she keeps kissing me, she keeps talking to me in French... 'not alone on your birthday... not alone' Okay, me man, I will do as told... keep her happy, do what she wants. Which funnily enough is exactly what I want... it is my birthday after all... And Christmas too!
So, I go to the washroom... (mistake) when I come back Frenchy is leaving... and is mad...! Mad! Despite my lack of French, I can tell when a woman is mad... I think it is a natural talent. Anyway, her jacket is on, there is some feet stomping, I get a final dirty look and she is out the door... gone!What the hell did I do? What...? At this point I notice my 'buddies' giggling to themselves... b*******!
No they had not told her I was married, or had kids, or had a girlfriend - none of those by the way.
No... my friends had explained to her that I was a prostitute and she would have to pay...
Ha! We laughed... Not. B*******!
Pitch-
If you are coming to Big White for the season... go to the bars...
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