On my way to see the Brit this past weekend, a lady pulling a suitcase saw me walking down the street towards the train station and made a beeline to intercept. She asked if I knew where Boulevard X was and I could barely get three words out before she gave a nervous laugh combined with a sigh and said “Thank God, perfect English”. I don’t know if she realized that I was American or just thought I was a française with an impeccable accent. As we went in different directions I chuckled to myself in sympathy because I understood how she felt and how relieved she must be.
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