CALL ME SNAKE

I’m no Francophile, nor do I have anything against Brazil. I know several nice people who come from that fine country–some of my best friends, you might say. Still yesterday I was relieved (perhaps even ecstatic) that France beat Brazil in the World Cup, this from a person who has yet to watch a minute of World Cup action. Allow me to explain: Two weeks ago, coming back from the beach, my family and I got caught in a horrible gridlock, stuck in a virtual standstill for almost an hour, on Route 1A south. We finally stopped at a roadside establishment for some victuals where I inquired about the cause of the backup. “Brazil won their World Cup game,” the hostess explained.

In our town, when Brazil wins (even an early-round game), hundreds (or maybe thousands) of fans drive around in their cars, honking their horns, and tying up traffic all over the city. Yesterday, before going to the beach, I checked the World Cup schedule and found that Brazil was scheduled to play France at 3 p.m., meaning that if we left the beach at our customary time, around 5:30 or 6, we were likely to get slammed again. But all was quiet. And the trip that took nearly two hours two weeks ago took less than half an hour yesterday. Last night, when I watched the 11 o’clock news, I found out why: France won the game, 1-0, and, as a result, traffic flowed freely on the Boston roadways. Which is why I said it above and shall say it again: Viva la France!