by Mike Mulhern

Created on: May 13, 2008

People often ask me what the most difficult thing is for an American living in Quebec. I don't even have to think about that one. I just stare off into the distance, fighting the nervous tic that's suddenly come into my eye and say quietly, "Buying a Dr. Pepper."

In my first installment of the Dr. Pepper Chronicles your intrepid hero was chased down by customs officials at the Canadian border for illegally purchasing a Dr. Pepper at the Duty Free Shop. I barely escaped untazed from that, and I've been too terrified to attempt another Dr. Pepper purchase since.

But temptation got the better of me. Recently I stopped off at a supermarket for a few things, and there was a big ol' 2 liter bottle of Dr. Pepper on the shelf just calling to me. I knew it was a risk... but one I was willing to take.

I took my things to the register and the cashier rang them up. After she scanned the last item and pushed it to the side, she turned to me and asked a question, in French of course.

I've learned enough French during my time in Quebec to handle the basic questions cashiers will ask: "Do you have the air miles card?" "Would you like a bag for that?" "Would you like a free package of mushrooms?" (Very odd promotions in Quebec supermarkets). But this one was a stumper. The best I could make out was, "Avez vous poisson?"

I stood there puzzled. Do I have any fish? Well, no I didn't. I had a salad, dressing, some pizza pocket thingies and the Dr. Pepper. No fish to be found anywhere, unless I'd accidentally picked up the Yummy Halibut Flavor! pizza pockets. Hey, the writing's in French, I'm never entirely sure what I'm getting.

I paused for a second, and thought about telling the cashier that I didn't speak French very well, but I hate it when I have to do that. At supermarkets I can usually get away with a "oui" or "non" and escape the cashiers looking as if I'm pure French Canadian, born and raised. (Ok, so sumo wrestlers act more French Canadian than I do-I can still dream, right?)

So I simply said to the cashier, "Excuse moi?" as if I hadn't heard what she'd asked. So she repeated it. And this time it sounded clearer: "Avez vous boisson?"

Ahhhh, there we go! Do I have a beverage. Perfectly clear now, and yes I did have a beverage. I smiled at the cashier and confidently said oui, even using the cool "whay" sound rather than the puny little "wee" that idiot Americans normally use (in other words, the sound I used for the first year I lived here). There we go, now we were getting

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