French dinner and deflating my ego

Cutting transport close, as always. I arrived at Gare Lyon at 7:49 for my 7:48 train to Lausanne. The machine wouldn't give me my ticket b/c I didn't have a Euro Mastercard (thwarted again!). Then apparently I had to go to a different ticket counter, as the guy I asked pointed me in another direction. I ran over and there were about ten ppl in line. I quickly explained my situation to the lady who stands at the entrance to the queue answering questions and she told me I needed to ask the 1st person in line. The eyes of the guy at the head of the line got really huge when I said, "j'ai un reservation pour 7:58" and he quickly waived his hand toward the next ticket agent. I've been led to believe that French ppl don't move very quickly, but the ticket agent typed my ridiculously long name with amazing efficiency and told me I better run because doors close at 7:56. I did and made it w/a couple min to spare. I was happy to note that I did most of this in French. I am now sitting on the train.
Last night I was once again punished for my arrogance about directions. This is the second time in a month. I'm either becoming old, or just more of an asshole. The problem is that yes, I'm phenomenal with directions, probably much more so than the vast majority. However, while a good part of it is my ability to visualize everything, read between the lines, see through buildings, and memorize maps, a good 30-40% is due to my thoroughness. I recheck my map constantly, even though I know, I ask questions, make certain of the route, and question assumptions. So, from memory, my hosts' address is ## Rue du Jura, Stair B, 5th fl, rt. door, code ####B. I arrive right on time. I check the address, check the names on the door, and climb 5 flights, add one if you are American. Ok, which is right? Facing the doors, or facing the building? I guess doors but check names anyway. No name on either, only the middle door. But there is mail left on the floor in front of the left door and the name is wrong, perfect. Ring bell. Nothing. Ring again... wait ten minutes. Get bored and trudge down and wait ten more. Maybe she was in the shower. Climb back up. Ring bell. Nothing. Now I'm getting annoyed. She said 6:30. It's 7:10. I walk to the main street. Maybe I'll go to a kiosk and buy a phone card. Maybe I'll see a bar and leave a note on the door for where I am. A guy who could be CS type walks past and goes in the door. I follow and look to see if he went up the stair. Nope, back outside. ... CLICK <<eyes open wide>> I didn't verify the stair!! I used intuition - clearly A is left and B is right. I check. Huge silver letters clearly show that A is on the right and B is on the left. I climb again the 5 floors and Katia opens the door for me. She told me that she'd seen me downstairs and then I came in and they waited, but I never came.
<We just went past a river and I saw a guy reeling in a fish. I love when I get to observe these moments of action in the flash of time I happen to be passing.
These canned messages on the train are terrible. They are obviously computer generated. I don't see how it could be so expensive to just have someone record them. It would probably be cheaper than the computer software plus the tech support.>
Katia is from a suburb of Buenos Aires (she hates burbs) and Clement is from Savoie (French Alps). I think though that Katia spent many years in France. They had been neighbors in the neighborhood they lived in before and had met in a local bar.
After I got there and showered, they spent a bunch of time looking online for places to go out to dinner before we ended up going to a neighborhood called Butte aux Cailles, or literally, Quail's Hill. It used to be a separate village from Paris and still has a lot of small old homes. It is now a minor bar and restaurant district with two streets that are lined with several of each. We walked around for awhile looking at all the choices before going to one place that turned out to be full. K gave her number to the maître d’ who had huge bulging eyes, a giant smile and a leaning stance. He made a joke to me about how he wasn't trying to pick up my woman, but I didn't understand a thing and just smiled. We went off then to find an apéritif.
Clemente seems to like to let her lead, but she cannot make any decisions, so we spent a bunch of time wandering around. We tried a couple of places, but they did not serve drinks unless you were having dinner, which seemed pretty ridiculous especially for the one which was pretty much empty. We ended up going into a place which seemed pretty lame since it looked like a coastie posh lounge with red lights, faux leather seat cubes and tools sipping martinis, but the tool factor was lower than initially imagined and it actually turned out to be pretty decent. The waiter was really friendly, and I imagine quite funny although I couldn't understand a thing he said. We got rosé with which my only previous experience had been from a box or 5L jug. It was quite nice, and if I could tell the future from this train, I might say that I will buy some the day after I return home and drink it before watching a movie with Sal and Brandy.
We then had a nice long dinner at the other place with good wine and eating marmots (yes there is a dish called the marmot). We talked about our countries and they actually got my humor very well. I tried some of Clement's blood sausage and verified that I still despise it. This one didn't taste so much like a scab as like chalk. A step up no doubt, but a step from runny poop to corny poop is not such a step indeed. I had a pork calf over lentils, which was decent and we got an order of these cheesy mashed potatoes that were amazing. We were sitting on the street and they had a special table for pulling the potatoes, since they were more like cheese with mashed potato and could be pulled like taffy. Of course they immediately captured my heart. By the time we got our desert we had become extremely tired. This consisted of some strong berry sorbet with this Everclear/Moonshine type liquor. Yikes. I was ok, but a bit much. I dropped 30 euros, but it was a great time.
The high Alps are looming in the background and I finish this just in time as we are arriving in Lausanne.