Last night we met some friends in Park City for dinner. Going to Park City gives me anxiety because I always feel like I should look like I just stepped out of a Sundance Catalogue. I typically don't have brick colored ponchos lying around the house. Neither does Christopher have that wavy, chin-length hair that is so popular in his film making profession. A poncho and long hair makes you look like you belong in Park City. However, I did wear cowboy boots with a skirt. I am not sure what the locals were saying as we perused Old Main Street but I think it was accepted. For one night I was one of them.
While we were having dinner I noticed our server's accent (and his handsome good looks). Seeing how no one else at our table asked, I did. He said he was from Ambleside in England, a lovely little town in the Lake District.
I just happen to love that place. I nearly stood up and hugged the man. We chatted about it for awhile. He was in Utah for the skiing (of course because the skiing isn't so hot in England...) and then, because my husband was glaring at me, I decided to order.
"I'll take the potato fritas."
"Excellent choice." he said, all Colin Firth meets Heath Ledger-ish.
"Why don't you go home with him?" Christopher asked, loud enough for the whole table to hear, after the gentleman left.
"Because you are paying the bill" I said, under my breath.
Unfortunately/fortunetly though, minutes after I had ordered, the waiter was back.
"Excuse me, who had the potato fritas?"
Not-ever-one-to-blurt-out-in-French-so-I-can't-explain-why-I-did-so-at-this-time, I declared,
What could be more charming but the fact that the gentleman and I started talking French ensemble....WITH OUT MISSING A BEAT!!! And his accent...DIVINE! Apparently the restaurant was out of les pomme de terre and I needed to reorder. So I did.
"Les tacos vegetables sans fromage si'l vous plait" I think I winked even.
"Bein Sur" he bowed.
Christopher wasn't going to have ANY OF THAT, so the jokes insinued. This time our friends joined in. It didn't bother me none, because I was too Park City that night to care what Utah Valley folks had to say. Later, in our friend's condo, Christopher and Jared went so far as to say that the gentleman's accent had actually changed during the course of our dinner. It was first a little Australian, and then Southern, and then Punjab. Oh yes, and also, it was about how people from England don't even ski. They were actually trying to get me to believe that the hot-French-speaking-Ambleside-resident-gentleman-waiter was a fraud.
Next time we go to Park City I am going to order Christopher a poncho beforehand. And maybe a cowboy hat with the sides all turned up. He will see that when you look Park City, these things just happen.