I mean, what's more French than Disneyland Paris? Led by my lovely and ever-accommodating hostess here, Marie-Eve, we made our way to Billy Bob's Country Western Saloon for a night of dinner, drinks, and...David Bowie?
Yes, a David Bowie tribute band was on stage that night, captivating a small handful of delighted, twirling, and over-excited children, who were the only members of the audience with enough temerity to enter the dance floor, much to the singer's chagrin. But first we chowed down on the evening's specials. I had a baked potato covered with chili, complete with a tub of fake cheese and a plastic-wrapped brownie. It was reminiscent of something you might order at Wendy's. Marie-Eve had some french fries and wan-looking chicken nuggets. (We might have been better off going to Wendy's, in fact).
But then came the music, and the reason for our being there. At first it was hard to know what to make of it all, as the guy next to us seemed to fancy himself a drummer of sorts, and was pounding on the table with an empty water bottle as if his life depended on it. "Rebel, rebel, you've thwap thwap thwap. Rebel, rebel, thwapthwapthwapthwapthwap!" We made our way downstairs where we were able to get a better view of the show, and I watched in quiet consternation, intially not quite sure what to think. Was it good? Was it unintentionally and subtlely hilarious? It quickly became clear that it was the latter. Everything about the singer was white, from his shiny polyester suit to his exuberant and arm-throwing dance moves. Do you remember back when Dana Carvey used to do impressions of George Bush (Sr.)? Well, this was a lot like that. Actually, it was like Dana Carvey doing George Bush doing David Bowie. And it was fantastic. I swear to you, he looked just like this:
I almost wanted to request "Chopping Broccoli."
But, like a couple of more prudent Cinderellas, and not wanting to be caught without our shoes on, we were out of there well before the stroke of midnight, headed back to our coach and our castle. And while it may not have been Paris, exactly, now I know where to go when I need a little taste of home (and a good laugh).