“The top floor loo,” said Dominic earlier in the week, “is the best place to take a crap in the whole house. The views are amazing.” I’d taken his advice. A car horn sounded from outside, and I dashed to the window, stark naked.
Two cars were en face on the bridge below, honking at each other and refusing to move. I looked down, and saw most of the other guests on the upper balcony below. From our vantage point on the hillside, we could see everything very clearly. The drivers got out of their cars, shouted at each other, and then got back in. A classic (and quite literal) impasse. More honking, from the rows of cars that had built up on either side of the canal. I saw Colin peering out from a window to the side of me, Hannah from another beneath me, Tom from still another. A younger, slim woman stormed out from a car in one of the rows, stamped over to the bridge, yelled and got back in her car. Just went the scene couldn’t get much more French, a row of cyclists passed by. Our laughter echoed across the valley.
The stand-off faded, and the cars passed. One each side the row jeered and honked at the car they saw as having just blocked their way for ten minutes. Dom turned around and looked up at all of us leaning out of different windows. I caught his eye and imagined what he could see - a Kodak moment.
Shortly afterwards, Vin and I left.