How do they find me?

The crazy people, I mean.  Not the ones who are actually mentally ill, just the ones who do obnoxious things in public.

The other night I went out with the other assistants.  We went to a crepe restaurant because we wanted dinner, but the waitress told us that the kitchen was closing in an hour and a half, so they could only serve desserts (which doesn't make sense, because they would have to heat up our dessert crepes anyway). So, we had dessert before dinner. The reason I mention this is because I ate a crepe with a filling called Speculoos, which is a delicious cookie, as well as a peanut butter/ nutella spread (it tastes like cinnamon). Yeah, it just might replace nutella in my life. :)

Then we went out for dinner. Let me remind you, however, that the assistants are very nice people and definitely not the people I was referring to at the beginning of this post.  There is more to come on that subject.

I TASTED HORSE MEAT!  Ok, I was a little nervous at first, but it just tastes like strong beef.  It's not bad, it just tugged at my conscience a little.

After dinner, we went to a little bar around the corner from the restaurant.  It was more like a pub, really.  I love the decor in this particular pub, because it makes me want to go there to have intellectual discussions.  You know, like the old French, philosophers.

Anyway, I tried a beer called pecheresse, which is like beer with peach syrup in it (so it isn't half bad). I must have been digging for an intellectual discussion, because we all starting talking about linguistics and the relationship between language and society.  It was just getting exciting when...

These three guys came up to our table.  In the background, there had previously been a party of Frenchmen who had been loudly singing and laughing.  The other assistants reasoned that I had become the object of a dare, because they all came up to me and asked if I spoke French.  Then they introduced themselves (only to me).  The first guy shook my hand, the second guy shook my hand, and the third guy gave me la bise, at which the first guy claimed to be jealous and gave me la bise as well (the third guy was luckily stuck behind a pillar, or else I would have been kissed again).

For all those who don't know what la bise is: In greeting , the French kiss each other on both cheeks. In this region, they start on the right and go to the left, but it varies (sometimes they do three!).  When you have been the victim of la bise as many times as I have, you start to get used to it.  Perfect strangers give it when they first meet.  Friends will greet each other every single day with la bise (coming and going)...and that's when it gets ridiculous. 

They asked me if they could come home with me and I gave a firm, but polite, no and sent them back to their table where they proceeded to start blowing kisses at us at intervals.  Finally, Laura called me and I had to leave. As I got up, they shouted at me to come to their table. ("Mary, VIENT!!") I shook my head and kept walking to the sound of them shouting my name throughout the pub. ("MARY MARY MARY MARY!") AWKWARD!  I have never been so targeted in my life.

How do they find me, these crazy people?!?!?