Jim says we have time for a quickie so let's all assume he means an update. The weird thing about a Monday arrival and departure day is that we're the only ones getting it. Orientation was last night, and we were introduced to all the GO's, the Gentile Organizers. (The FRENCH pronunciation of "gentle"..this is not a Christian youth group) I guess if I saw on arrival day what I saw last night I might have been freaked enough to cut our losses and check into the Westin, where we'd survive on Jim's breakfast bars and we'd play bingo, because the GOs did a TALENT SHOW, and one act was handing to ringside audience members pieces of authentic glass from the two bottles he just smashed with a hammer, and then this guy not only stood on said broken glass, he got prone and made audience members stand on him! I'm glad he didn't pick ME to step on him. Not only would he have felt those shards on the floor, he would have broken a rib or two. But seriously, all the GO's were introduced in native costumes in their native tongues with film describing their native countries in the background, ending each intro with "Club Med CANCUN!"(at least I think that's what they were saying!) and I felt like I was live at the Miss Universe pageant only without the misogyny, and with contestants with IQ's high enough to know that countries such as "The Iraq" and such as countries like that don't exist. I really don't hate the french. I love french fries, french film, and the French Revolution, but only because of Les Miz. I love french accents and if Ethan Hawke walked in here right now, french kissing but only if he was still in his Jessie Wallace character. And I love my french poodle, the one you all know as mon chien et Luke. Jim thinks I'm silly because we don't know anyone who ever calls their dogs by their given names. Am I right dog owners? So yep, I love me some french pastry but if they don't make cigarette smoking ILLEGAL in France, I am totally done with the lot of them. Before we board in a few hours, I am going to share something very special with those of you who have been kind enough to stroke my ego and bear through every last word of everything I've journaled. Inquiring minds want to know so I'll finally tell them the real name of Abba Song. You asked, so I'll tell you but it should seem obvious that his name is "Dancing Queen"
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