We got the message.

We could have lived. All night. In French restaurants. And never been shown the door. I’d request the check. And 15 minutes later. I’d still be waiting.  But there was no hurry. We chatted about the thrill of being in France. Of eating French cuisine. Of learning new French words. Acting like we had all night. Though I kept asking for the check. To no avail. It’s as if the French wanted to keep us around. Forever. We were lovers. In love with each other. And with France. Eventually, the waiter brought us a complimentary dessert. Or mint tea. Once, a bottle of brandy. To sip. Leisurely.  We got the message. Stick around. Feel welcome. --Jim Broede