The Waffleflingin Incident and other Interesting Scenarios

When Shanart and I were in Belgium in 1996. We went with an art history class and actually got 3 credits. We had a class once a week that would deal with the culture, the art and how to act as an American on European soil. We tasted Nutella on bread, we talked about wearing dark colors and not being too loud, and not "acting" too American. We were trained and read for the "European Experience".

We arrived in Brussels, Belgium and took to train to just on the outskirts of The Grand Plas (The Grand Place) and our hotel in the upstairs of a cafe/bistro. We dropped our gear and immediately met back downstairs to start the trip off right by a quick view of The Grand Plas. Shanart, and most of the rest of us had traveled in "American" clothes figuring that she would change when she arrived. We loved the walk of the area and on our return an hour or so later we just down the street from our place of stay, when Shanart was approached by a man who asked if she was an American. She replied that she was, and he proceeded to ask her if she wanted a Belgian Waffle. She promptly refused, and I just as quickly accepted (I have never been shy to accept food). He brought me over to a card table set up on the edge of the street, and the rest of the group followed as curious as I was.

There was a lady behind the card table, who asked if I wanted cream (whipcream) with my waffle, and I wasn't so sure that I didn't. So as she was putting the whipcream, we were smiling and talking about our good luck of free food, and as in a slow motion video I saw out of my peripheral view that she was throwing something at me. I instinctively ducked, but not low enough, as the waffle (for that is what it was) and exorbitant amount of cream bounced off of my shoulder and onto the black cashmere coat of the sensitive girl with our group who was presently enjoying the sites from behind me. In the confusion, while Dana is crying and others are offering her their condolences about her black cashmere coat, I am trying to figure out where my free food fun went wrong. The lady and as we see now, two men who are laughing hysterically and pointing, as a schoolchild would taunt another on the playground. We realize that one of the men has a video camera, not the kind that you use personally on a vacation, but a full fledge professionally camera, the kind that TV is shot from. When pressed by the only lady who spoke fluent French about what was happening, we were able to get a rough idea that we were on the rude equivalent of "Candid Camera", or more to date "Punked", but stepped up a notch and for lack of an actual name it was something to the effect of "Watch the Dumb Americans!" I did however get some justice out of this situation, as I demanded to have a waffle. It was quite stale, but never-the-less tasty. My first Belgian waffle!

I was so thankful to be going back to the hotel, Shanart and I fell into the tiniest double bed that is even humanly possible. As we both relaxed, we were aware that we were completely wedged together. The bedsprings were so weak in the center of the bed that we went where gravity took us...to the middle of the bed. As we worked ourselves free of the knot that this created, we devised a plan to allow us to make it through the rest of the trip. We laughed. I think this was a good plan as later in our trip we stayed in the Red Light District in Zurich, Switzerland. But that is another story.