Finally making it to the exit, we paid the human, and asked for directions. I think she gave us a vague tip to turn right at the next intersection, but she didn’t speak icon so I couldn’t be sure. We followed her instructions and sure enough, we found spectators setting up to watch. Feeling smug, we pulled into a “Mr. Bricolage” parking lot—which looked like the French equivalent to Home Depot—and backed in. As we have the family wagon, we are hooked up for the impromptu tailgate situation. It would have been a blast had we known we were tailgating! BBQ, lawn chairs, tiki bar … unfortunately, we had a beach towel, some room temperature water, and pretzels to enjoy the spectacle. And … it was a spectacle.
We planned to be there for 2:10, assuming that is when Le Tour would be passing. In reality, that was when the “caravan” was coming through. The caravan included inflated cartoon animals tacked on to four-wheelers, sponsor cars, and wild dancing hotties on floats. The said hotties were also throwing out free goods. Now, I love free samples, it’s my mid-western upbringing. But these freebies were hilarious. And the floats didn’t slow down, so they had to toss low in order to reduce the decapitation-risk for spectators (this is France after all!) The freebies included samples of shampoo, conditioner, key chains, and, my favorite—sausage. Yes, mini sausages were flung from the moving hottiemobile. Only in France!
And, I was amazed to see “normal” people. It seems that we stumbled upon French suburbia where the people are a little chubby—and not so stylish. Definitely not the French that you see in Paris—you know, the ones who are pale and tragically melancholy, smoking clove cigarettes in their ridiculously stylish clothes. You know, the ones who make you feel really great about yourself? Like you might as well just tattoo an American flag on your forehead because, even though you are wearing black, you are smiling and will never be a size two. The people on Le Tour route must be the ones the French government tries to hide: people who drink Coke in plastic cups from their lawn chairs at “Mr. Brico.”
