I'm sure most people have been told that "Europeans do not like Americans" or "Europeans are very rude, especially if you're American" - If you have heard these things, I'm pretty sure a Boomer was the one to tell you that.

Today's story takes place at a café in Paris, France. Pre-COVID - Happier times, maybe.

One night, my wife and I are sitting at a table on a cafe's patio, people watching, drinking Aperol Spritzes and waiting for our croque madam/monsieur.

At the table next to us, two boomer couples sit together. They're long time friends. The wives are extremely excited. It was their first full day in Paris - a trip they've been wanting to go on since they were teenagers. They rehashed their day - getting macarons at Ladurée, walking the Seine, and spending the rest of the day at the Louvre.

The husbands are discussing the opposite. They are curmudgeons. The prices are too high at this café. "20 euros for a cheeseburger!" - They haven't realized that tax is included in all the prices, or that France's food isn't as industrialized as it is in the U.S. One husband pulls a small piece of paper from his wallet with the exchange rates printed on it. "Those cookie sandwiches were pricy too. Did we really need the fancy boxes?".

Thankfully, the women have learned how to tune out their husbands. But this becomes more difficult, for the wives and for the people sitting near them. The husbands are hungry. "The waiter isn't even paying attention to us", says one husband. The other husband raises his hand - "Scuzi. SCUZI!"

The wives stop their debate on which princess/actress from their childhood used Ladurée boxes to store their jewelry. They both turn red, lower their heads, and clutch their Rick Steves guide books. One wife leans over to her husband and whispers "That's Italian. We are in France."

"It's all the same thing here." says the husband, as he waves the server over.

\**Side note. As a husband myself, it can be fun to playfully embarrass your wife. Every married women under 45 has been referred to as "MY WIFE" a la Borat.****

This is where it gets good. We all know, once it gets going, the Boomer can be an unstoppable force. Barreling forward, consuming everything in its path, leaving destruction in its wake, only stopping when it gets what it wants.

The Parisian Server on the other hand can be an unmovable object. If treated with respect, they will go out of their way to make sure you have a great experience. If slightly disrespected, well, good luck getting anything.

The server arrives to their table, with a sense of humor. "Si signore" he says.

The husband that waved him over orders for the table. "The ladies will have cheeseburgers and we will have the bacon cheeseburgers. With french fries."

"Okee dokee" says the server in an attempted American accent. He gathers their menus and walks away. "He didn't write anything down. I hope he doesn't screw it up." notes a husband.

The wives go back to excitedly conversing about their trip. One says, "I can't wait to see the Monets tomorrow!". "Ugh. Too blurry" her husband responds.

\**I now say "Too blurry" every time I see a Monet. My poor wife knew I am a forever child when she agreed to marry me****

A little time passes and the server arrives with their order. "OK. Cheeseburgers. Cheeseburgers with bacon. And, FRENCH fries. Or as we say in France, Frites" - One of the wives giggle, and the server leaves.

The couples inspect their meals, as is customary for the Boomer when they receive food. The server placed the bacon cheeseburgers in front of the women and the cheeseburgers in front of the men. Also, there is no ketchup.

"God Dammit. He got it wrong! GAR-SON!!!!" yells a husband. The server arrives, "Oui Monsieur?"

"WE ordered the bacon cheeseburgers. THEY got the cheeseburgers. And there's no ketchup!". "Ah. Oui." the server responds and he proceeds to switch the plates to the appropriate diner. "I go get ketchup" and walks away.

"I knew he was going to screw it up" a husband says. The other husband responds with "He didn't have to be so rude"

The server returns. Both hands full of ketchup packets. Places dozens of the single serving packets on their table. "Voilà! Ketchup!"

Shocked, one husband asks "You don't have a bottle of ketchup?". "No" says the server. "Only ketchup for the children", and leaves.

My wife and I continued to order and drink cheap Aperol Spritzes. Enjoying the shameful show of grown adults opening and emptying numerous ketchup packets on to their food while complaining about anything they can think of.

The Boomers finish, pay, and depart. Leaving a five dollar bill on the table as tip.

The server comes to clean their table. Picks up the five dollar bill and places it on our table. "For good Americans"