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This is such an ace thread!
I think my most embarassing moment was in a very small restaurant in New Zealand. It was so small that there was only one lady taking orders and waiting tables, and when we booked we were asked if we minded sharing a table with another couple. Despite the fact the other couple seemed to be mid-row when we joined them, we all got talking after a glass or two of wine. It turned out that they had a holiday place in Akaroa, while their business interests were up in Christchurch - in the wine industry. Because of their local knowledge they were soon sharing stories about a largish party who were sat directly behind us, and who were apparently rather well off. The chap kept commenting on the wine they were drinking and how expensive it was. After about 30 minutes the group all got up and left the restaurant. 'Blimey' (or words to that effect) the chap exclaimed. I don't believe it - they've left a bottle of 'xxxx' on the table and it's only just been opened. That guy must have more money than sense. 'Really' I pipe up? and turning round, see the bottle just sitting on the vacated table. 'Seems a shame to waste it' I announce, emboldened by some alcohol and wanting to impress our new friends - and promptly lift if from their table and bring it to ours... just as the other group returned from the front porch where they had been looking at the blackboard which housed the only menu in the restaurant. I have never been so mortified in my life, and was eventually rescued by the waitress who worked out who the culprit must be when the poor confused diners noticed that rather expensive purchase had gone missing... I won't be sharing tables with strangers again in a hurry. |
sarahkay, you get the prize for most <i>humiliating</i> story, IMHO! I bet you cringe every time you think of it.
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Two things come to mind:
Thing 1: Flying out of a small airport to Chicago, there were 2 flights leaving the same gate at about the same time. No jetways: one had to walk out onto the runway then find the right plane. I got in line, had my ticket taken, and followed the herd to a plane, where someone was in my seat. "No problem", I thought, "there's an empty seat in the next row back." So I took that, settled in with the crossword puzzle, stowed my luggage, removed my shoes, etc. When the flight attendant said "welcome to flight XYZ to Washington DC", I never moved so fast in my life, managing to wallop about 5 people with my luggage on the way out of the plane. Thing 2: my wife, daughter, and I were dining at a fancy seafood restaurant on the Oregon coast, and our 4-year-old decided it was time to try some of my wife's cioppino. She reached a hand in, grabbed a whole (small) octopus, and promptly bit its head off. Said octopus was evidently very full of some kind of fluid, which squirted forcefully across the 10 feet separating our table from a very nice mirror, displaying our family's gastronomic habits to the rest of the patrons. For the record, she liked the squid and went back for more. |
No one was really embarrassed except for my friend and I. We bought a travel package that included air, hotel and train service from Rome to Venice. Along with our plane tickets came a packet that we thought were tickets for the train. We didn't see a date, or time on the tickets--that should have been our first clue.
So, we looked at the train schedule and decided what train and when we'd make our way to Venice. Unfortunately, that morning we had delays from our hotel and got to the train station later than we planned. We found the train we wanted, and hopped on the nearest compartment. It happend to be first class--we found this out when the people with our seat numbers came. We figured the rest of the train was first come first serve, so we went back to second class and sat down. Once the train started moving we noticed the other seats had numbers on them. It dawned on us that we had needed to turn in the stubs we'd received and get real tickets. We spent the rest of the trip trying to avoid the conductor--and somehow managed it. We felt sooooo bad, but were afraid we'd get thrown off the train in the middle of a foreign country. And, since we'd paid for some sort of ticket in the package, we didn't feel like we'd stolen a trip. Needless to say, in the future I will double check to make sure I have the right documentation. |
Forty or so years ago in Ireland.
A friend and I had taken a bus to the village at the end of the line and then walked on to the estate which we were going to visit. We had a wonderful time and then walked back to catch a bus "home". the bus was parked in the town square and the sign on the bus stop post told us that it would not be leaving for forty minutes or so. It was quite a chilly day and things seemed to be pretty well shut down in town. We discovered that the bus door was unlocked, so we got on. My friend decided to sit in the driver's seat and I took some pictures of her as she did all sorts of silly things. Then we changed places and I performed for the camera. As I got up to go take a seat with my friend, the driver stood up and came down the aisle. He had been sleeping at the back of the bus. My friend and I were so embarrassed. If it had not been the last bus of the day, we would have jumped off and waited for another. Fortunately the driver took it in good spirit and laughed at our antics. We ended up having a great chat until it was time to go. We and one lady were the only passengers on the return trip. Another time my friend and I had gone on hike up a fairly steep hill. We decided it would be an adventure to go down the other side. At the foot of the hill we came to a wall which surrounded a farmyard. Rather than hike back up the hill, we decided to climb the wall and go through the yard. With a bit of a struggle we got over and dropped to the other side. As we were walking through, my friend hollered, "J_______, the PIG!"and began running. I looked about casually and all of a sudden saw the pig--the biggest sow I have ever seen (and I grew up on a farm.) She did not look happy to see us. We moved very quickly to the board gate, also quite a climb. As we flung ourselves over, we realized that there were several men sitting around chatting and smoking their pipes. My friend, who has a lot more cool than I, looked at them, smiled, shrugged, and said, "No speak English." We still wonder what story they told at home that evening. Fast forward to Heathrow more than a few years later. I had twonephews (10 and 12) in tow as we prepared to depart for home. We had left the rental car and were walking in the front door. I had my purse and carryon in one hand and small suitcase in the other hand when I felt something around my shins working toward the ankles. I realized the elastic in my half slip had given way and with my hands full, I could do nothing about it. So I just walked out of it. One of my nephews asked, "Aunt, did you just lose your slip." I muttered something about not knowing where it came from. My apologies after the fact to whoever had to dispose of my yesterday's laundry. |
I know someone who jammed the lock of teh room safe and locked their money in it, requiring assistance from the hotel reception to open it, four separate times in a one-week stay.
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DH and I missed our flight out of Rome last year because of a time change that we were unaware of. We spent the last two days of our vacation not realizing that the clocks went back an hour. We were on our way to the airport when hubby noticed the clock in the taxi. Once we found out what had happened we panicked. We missed our flight from Rome to Brussels. We got to Brussels a few hours later but ended up missing the flight to Chicago and had to stay the night. It wasn't a terrible thing, as neither of us had been to Brussels before so we spent the day roaming around the city, but it was rather embarrassing telling the airline agents why we missed our flights! Although in our defense its not like there are tons of clocks everywhere in Rome, and we had been several times before that so we weren't on a time schedule, but still!
Tracy |
1976 - first European trip w/DH.
Riotous farewell dinner at Greek resto; closed down the place at 4 a.m.; dancing on tables; far far too much retsina and ouzo. 6 a.m. after locking house and putting keys in mail slot we realized the tickets were still on the kitchen counter. Only hope of breaking into house was through 4'x4' ground floor bathroom window. DH pushed me head-first through opening causing severe bruising and a terrible headache from up-side-down slide. This activated a dreadful hangover. Flew Vancouver - Toronto in alcohol induced haze which somewhat lessened the pain from the contusions. Went to board flight to London - no tickets. Frantic search through assortment of bags, totes, purse I was carrying on (Ah the good old days) to no avail. Started to get hot flashes; went to check-in and actually accused the purser in Vancouver of keeping the tickets - I was so loudly insistant they actually phoned to YVR to see if they had been 'found'.......Imagine, airline personnel trying to help a out-of-her-mind passenger reeking of garlic and retsina w/rapidly developing bruises on face and arms (luckily the worst ones where hidden by clothing). Still some faint hope of making our flight....... Flight departed. We did not. AC re-scheduled us on a flight four hours later. Everyone being so nice to me......DH has mentally 'left the building' until some kind of solution is found, preferably w/his wife being admitted to an institution. I just want to curl up and nurse my wounds. Finally, in a move of utter desperation, the airline sends down their resident psychiatric aide to talk me down. O my, he is so very calming. He suggests we slowly filter through every page of my many magazines and books 'just in case' the tickets are stashed there for 'safekeeping'. I am indignant and to show my displeasure I breathed on him w/my garlic-retsina- infused breath just to shown him how distasteful I found his accusation. Needless to say, there they were in the center of Europe on $40 a Day. 18 hours later we landed in Paisley; of course, our luggage didn't and our car wasn't............. |
When I was 17 my mother won a holiday for two and we went to Paris. Keen to practice my school-girl French I insisted on ordering at all the Restaurants.
I came unstuck at an Italian cafe when I ordered Spaghetti Bolognese "for two". A plate of pasta duly arrived which was put in front of my mother, and an empty plate which was put in front of me. WHAT?? SORRY???? EXCUSE ME??? Much consternation and hand waving ensued. Apparently I had ordered ONE Spaghetti Bolognese for TWO. The waiter explained that American tourists on a budget frequently shared a main meal between them to save money. |
Got off the subway in London, walked to escalator, looked up. It was about 300' long. Got on, placing 2 big suitcases on the step in front of my feet. 1/3 of the way up, I adjusted one, and it fell backward, pushing me over. Now about 1/2 way, I looked up and realized I'd better get up before I reached the top else those little teeth at the top mince me up. So I pushed both suitcases off of me, rolled over, and stood up. By the time I reached the top, all was OK. But greeting at the top were 3 subway cops, asking intently if I was all right. Would've made me $10,000 on 'Greatest Videos' had my wife had a videocam.
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Years ago, DH and I traveled to L.A. for the first time. We stayed at a decent chain hotel (had Lion in the name), and enjoyed the buffet breakfasts/brunches each morning.
There was one particular soup we really enjoyed. It was served in a metal tureen-like container, and had little bowls beside it to ladle it in. After three days of enjoying this soup, we felt compelled to ask one of the wait staff what kind of soup it was. He smiled and told us it was the gravy that was to be served on top of the biscuits. It was at that point we realized that it was kind of on the salty and thick side... Blushing Bloom |
"soixante" is 60 in French.."seize" is 16.
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going into a hotel de ville in a small town in France and asking at a desk for a room
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When I went to Scandinavia two years ago I decided to pop over to Paris for one day at the end to visit a friend. Savvy traveler that I am, I flew Ryanair from Stockholm to Paris.
I studied French in college and did a little refresher before I left so I felt oh-so-confident about being able to get around, no problem. We land at the teensy airport outside Paris. I think I know a better way of getting tickets to the bus to Paris. I don't. I miss getting onto the completely filled first bus and wait around for half an hour in the chill for the next one. I arrive in Paris. I need to call my friend to tell her I have arrived. I ask a man where I can buy a phone card. He tells me I need to buy cigarettes before he will tell me. I say, "Mais je ne fume pas!" and am annoyed that he is trying to take advantage of a poor tourist. Um, yeah. It turns out he was telling me I needed to go to the tobacconist down the street to buy a phone card. I decide I should not even pretend to speak any French. OK, so I get the phone card, I call my friend and tell her I'm on my way. I know there is a metro stop somewhere right near where the bus has dropped us, and because I assumed it would be visible and easy to find I didn't research it much. The stop is nowhere to be seen. I decide to briskly wander in concentric circles as though i know exactly where I'm going until I find it. After getting catcalled from a car, I find the metro stop. It is getting dark. I buy tickets from the vending machine, which I could have done on my own but a nice guy helps me, and carries my suitcase onto the train too. He has patience with my rudimentary French and asks me why I'm there, how long, etc. He says he is Moroccan and a chef. He asks if I would like to see L'Arc de Triomphe. I say that I would like to see it but I probably won't have time on this trip. He then grabs my suitcase and starts to get off the train. I had to make a change at the stop for L'Arc de Triomphe so I assumed he was helping me make my change, and then he started carrying my bag toward the exit. No, no, I explained, I cannot go to the Arc de Triomphe with you now. I am meeting my friend. He is very reluctant to give up my bag (and the pleasure of my company, I suppose), but I finally wrest it from him and get on the metro line heading to my friend's home. I was very happy to see her when i finally arrived, and to have une parisienne to take me around the next day so I didn't have to use my wholly inadequate French. I am going back to Paris for a week in May (alas, my friend has moved to Spain) and will be much more diligent about my study this time! |
(I told this story in my trip report last year, so apologize for the redundancy if anybody reads both accounts.)
Last summer we were getting ready for a trip to Rome. We were staying there for a week and wanted to rent an apartment. One of my college-aged children has taken a lot of Italian classes, so I got her to teach me how to say, "I'm sorry I don't speak Italian" in preparation for my call to the apartment rental agency in Rome. I bravely made the call and when the person answering the phone said something (I of course know not what) in Italian, I proudly trotted out the phrase I had learned and said, "I'm sorry I don't speak Italian". The phone-answerer laughed merrily and passed me along to someone else who was also laughing merrily when she picked up the phone. We then conducted the rest of the conversation in English. I told DD about the call and said I must have a really funny accent since everybody was laughing so hard. She sternly asked me to repeat EXACTLY what I had said. Then she told me I had called up those innocent people working in Rome and started off the conversation by informing them I was sorry THEY didn't speak Italian. |
We were on a country road , my husband stopped the car to check the map. I decided to step out and stretch my legs. I was wearing a beautiful Armarni linen outfit I picked up in Filene's Basement. The grass on the side of the road blocked my view of the irrigation ditch. Down I went, up I came soaking and STINKY wet! I crossed the sreet were a villa was and the sun was shining and lay down to dry off. I dozed off and awoke to the gardner laughing at me.
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Just happened on this funny thread.
Last spring, in a little town in the Maremma, I stopped for gas in my rental car. There was no attendant, just a coin operated thingy. Of course, I couldn't operate the thing and having deposited 20E the only recourse was to press the button that delivered a credit reciept. Of course, I was furious. The next day I returned when the attendant was on duty. He accepted the receipt and inserted the DEISEL that the vehicle required. I can't quite imagine the cost of my potential catastrophic error to say nothing of the embarrasement. |
Cigalechanta, your story sounds like something out of an Audrey Hepburn movie. You're not married to Albert Finney, are you?
Most of my embarrassing stories are boring tales of me being shouted at by some exasperated French person trying to explain the most basic facts to me. I should probably spare you the details of my first trip to England and discovering that stopping for a pint in every pub I passed in London starting at 11:00 in the morning is not the best way to enjoy one's holiday, especially if one has a small bladder. One pint of beer = three trips to the john for me, which makes sightseeing difficult. I think the natives thought I was a drug fiend or a rent boy looking for some action. |
I HAD a habit to take pictures out of the hotels' windows, usually getting great views. Once in the morning, out of the shower, the sun was rising, perfect lights for my picture.
Only at home, after the paper photos were printed, I noticed my reflection in the window. Like a mirror. The robe was opened, oh boy, at least my underwear was on! Of course, now I develop my films at a different place. |
F, That won't be the least bit embarrassing to me but I am a guy.
So...., on our last trip to Spain, we stopped at a fantastic restaurant called Puerta Del Mar in Nerja. It had a magnificent view of the sea, and looked very upscale. After eating what was a marvelous seafood lunch complete with excellent Pulpo with paprika on it, I got up to go to the restroom. On my way back to our table in the far corner, I decided to go close to the windows and see the view outside. I noticed a family of very pretty spanish ladies sitting nearby, and was definitely a bit conscious (did I already say I am a guy?:) ). Anyway, as I approached the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, subtly adjusting my hair, and making sure I am walking nicely enough :), all of a sudden I found my face slam into something! The glass was so clean that, like a fool, I had banged my face flat against it!! I have to say I felt really stupid specially because I was adjusting my hair at the time, and keenly remember looking around if someone saw me hurt myself! If the women did, they were very polite to look away! But that's okay. I didn't hurt myself too badly. I have lived. It happens. And I can laugh at myself. :) |
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