I moved to the US a few days after finishing high school.
This was not an intended move and in fact, I did not think that it was a move, only a visit.
But this is another story. One that has been slow to heal.
My parents, in an attempt to get me socially connected to "their new country", introduced me to a young man who invited me to "a party."
Having not danced in a few weeks, I was looking forward to it.
As I walked into the house where the party was held, I noticed that it had not yet started: people were still standing around the living room, talking. The lights were bright. Some people were sitting on the couch and everyone seemed to be drinking - a lot. Many of the guests seemed a little bored and I could not wait for the fun to start as this certainly held no air of what I thought of as a party.
A couple of hours later, my date told me that it was time to go home.
"We are going to leave before the party starts???"
He looked at me, confused.
"This is the party. We have been at the party." he answered, looking at me strangely.
My heart grew heavy as I realized that I would not dance after all. It grew heavier as, that evening, I became aware of the difference between the lives of French teenagers and American teenagers.
I had spent my teenage years going to weekly parties where we danced all night, lights turned low, strobes turned high (this was the 80's...) and - to my recollection - never a drop of alcohol in sight. There was laughter, playfulness and well, FUN.
I had seen none of it that night.
Addendum:
A few weeks later, that same boy invited me to the movies. He did not mention anything about "The Rocky Horror Picture Show" being an atypical show. As we left the theater, grains of rice in my hair, I knew for sure that I hand landed in a different planet. A planet where not only did kids not dance but adults felt compelled to act out every movie they watched. I could not wait to go back home to France.
Which, as it turns out, I never did.
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