Oh boy, I’m in France.


We’re in Dunkirk, France, wasting time before our 11:50pm ferry to Dover, England arrives. We stopped at
McDonalds because it has free wifi and a clean bathroom. Matt asks me to order a cold coffee while I wait for him so I go up to the counter and put in my ordering French:
“Bonjour, do you have cold coffee?”
The young pimply man looks blankly at me then firmly answers
“Ok, can I get a coffee with a cup of “glace” ice.”
Again, blank look followed by a wince.
“Ok Madame, what type of sprinkles would you like?”
I clue in, “glace” in Quebec French can mean, anything from ice to mirror and in France you must say “gla├žon”. Of course at that moment I draw a blank and can only think of the word in English.
“ummmm, Ice, you know, “glace”, ummmm”
So I whip out my best charades and preform ice and cup for the young man.
In the end I got my coffee and my cup full of ice with a side of nasty looks from the staff, I swear they are still talking about my weird order.