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I remember once when I was a young man in the Navy our carrier anchored off of Marcelle France and so I took the opportunity to travel around the city with a Christian friend. At one point in our journey we stopped off at a streetside food stand to get a bite

of lunch. Their specialty was a hamburger submarine sandwitch. Boy did that look good, so I ordered one. As the hamburgers were cooking the woman asked me if I wanted some of their special sauce. Now she spoke French and I didn’t so this was all done through

hand signals. I waved back a yes, but she seemed uncomfortable with my decision and signalled back with a “do you really want to do this?” Confident in my youthful maturity I once again waved back my affirmation. Now in America since the customer is always right I would have gotten that special sauce, but I guess in France they have never bought into that motto. So instead she offered me a sample on a spoon. So I dipped my finger into the sauce and placed it on the tip of my tongue. Liquid fire, my tongue began to burn so badly that I began to spin around and flap my hands trying to put out the heat. The woman immediately handed me a glass of water and I gulped it down in desperation. While at the same time, both my friend and a complete stranger, stood there laughing

their heads off.

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