I really like the order of these. I think it’s great how this challenge has you write to a person you hate and then the very next one to someone who should forgive you. Good call.
This took me a while to think up. Mostly because if I’ve wronged anyone I expect them to tell me so I can fix it right away. I can’t think of anyone else who I missed an opportunity to apologize to, and if there are people somewhere holding grudges against me or expecting an apology, I don’t know it. I hate letting things fester. I’m a rip the wound open and promptly move on sort of girl.
Letter Challenge Day 13 – Someone I Wish Could Forgive Me
Dear French Waiter Sir,
I’m so sorry. I really didn’t mean to disparage your city, and I certainly didn’t intend for you to hear me say, “I don’t think I’d ever come back to Paris” in that huffy tone. I did not intend for it to come out that way, but I’ve learned that intentions are completely different things than impressions.
We’d only been there half a day, straight from London, you see, and all we’d done at that point is traveled from bus to train to bus, walked some, saw the not-so-pretty buildings, and came to dinner, drained and dehydrated. I was exhausted in the kind of way that makes me recklessly verbal. I wasn’t thinking of anything but the shocking differences between the easy time we’d just had in London and the few hours of hustle we went through in Paris. That’s no excuse for my carelessness, I know. I’m just sorry that the first impression I left on a French person (aside from the very bored passport stamper) was so poor.
I confused you with the plates, too. I was too flustered to try speaking French at the time, and my unhelpful head shakes and pointing of the finger was not making your job easier. You were a fantastic waiter; very patient, friendly, good-looking and young, and you smiled a lot. You seemed to be excited to serve a large group of American tourists. I can’t imagine what you must think of me, if you did indeed hear what I said. Throughout the dinner your amiable demeanor never altered, but I have friends who were there and attested to my faux pas.
The incident made me uneasy for the rest of the night at our hotel. Okay, so I was burying my face in pillows and hysterically fake sobbing, but that all falls under the category of uneasy. I asked my roommates if they could help me “borrow” the tour bus so we could drive back to the restaurant where I’d get down on my knees and beg your forgiveness–whether or not you were even offended–but alas, we didn’t want to give our wonderful group leaders reason to ship us back home before the end of our third day in Europe.
I still don’t think I’d want to revisit Paris, except to spend hours and hours in the Opera House or try to find you and make amends. It’s just a pity that my first night there was such an awkward disaster and you weren’t able to hear all the positive things I felt for the city. The rest of the time I got on quite well, had the presence of mind to order food and ask for restrooms in French, and was even mistaken as a native once or twice. I’m sorry it didn’t work out so well between us. You were great. I was not.
Please forgive me, Mr. French Waiter, sir.