Driving in France - Part V

In tandem to my driving lessons, I was also studying for the infamous “code.”
There was a cold and dark room in the back of the driving school (I think it was actually a garage) with folding chairs and a TV that played non-stop driving videos with quizzes.

I have an overly keen sense of smell which is not easy in France and I agree we shouldn’t stereo-type but rather have our own experiences, etc. Well, my personal experience is this: the French reek. Not all of them, but you know the saying, “One bad apple ruins the whole barrel.” You get one stinker and it’s all over. Pepe the skunk from Bugs Bunny was French for a reason after all.And to get back to the room, it did not smell great, definitely not like us overly anal, hygienic, squeaky clean Americans who leave a trail of cologne, soap, and deodorant that lingers for hours after one of us walk by, Tic-Tacs in our pocket so our breath smells great at all times. Definitely not that kind of smell going on here.

Wasn’t there a deodorant commercial that played on our fears, “Never let ‘em see you sweat?” They need to bring this commercial to France. What about the fear of smelling like beef stew, cumin, and stale tobacco all mixed together, so strong it brings up tastes and images too? Since when were smells a full-blown five sensory experience? (By the way, stay off all French metros during the summer unless you already hate yourself or are conducting tolerance level experiments.)

Back to the driving video room: Scenario after scenario would play out and we, the students, would have to answer multiple choice questions. No one would really talk. However, at the end of each video we’d get all the answers with the idiotic explanations and we would all groan, moan and bitch out loud to the TV.

Boo Boo’s fiancé became the administrative assistant and specialist. She would go to the back once in a while and explain why we made our errors. It was all plain and simple to her, so easy! She would try to ease our pain but it just didn’t work.

For example, when you are driving and you see a pedestrian waiting to cross, it is wrong to stop for him unless he is “engaged” which means he is already moving across the pedestrian pathway.

The video could trick you by showing a guy talking to his friend standing by the pedestrian path, maybe even gesturing with his hand to his friend during his conversation.

“He’s not crossing. He’s just talking,” one student would say.

“Look! Look at his arm. He’s moving. He’s walking towards the path! He’s engaged,” another would say.

“No! No!”

Then the answer would come and everyone would be pissed!

“I told you! I told you! He wasn’t crossing! He’s just standing by the pedestrian crossing. He’s just talking. He’s not moving!”

“Whatever! This is bullshit,” another student would say and abruptly leave the room, a light stench wafting across the room as he slams the door.

As a pedestrian, you don’t wait for the car to stop, you dangerously start crossing and then the car will stop for you. This is the way it goes.

My walk home I’d go over all the questions I missed feeling deflated of hope. My conversations with my husband over dinner would start like this, “Did you know that in France…”

And he would typically respond, “You need to start thinking like a French person. This isn’t the US. You guys don’t know how to drive!”

“What do you mean,” I’d ask feeling angrier and angrier.

“You don’t drive in the US. You guys are like fucking zombies there! You can drive while asleep and be fine.”

“Shut up,” I’d say. And that would be our on-going conversation after my driving school.

“I can’t wait till you get your fucking license and this is all over,” he’d say.

“No, shit! I can’t wait!” And I’d be up with insomnia replaying all my scenarios with Boo Boo, and all the answers on the videos trying to re-set my brain to “illogical and dangerous” mode.