My roommate Desiree and I were up pretty late talking Sunday night, and by the time we went to bed it was already past midnight and into the next day–July 14th.
Happy Bastille Day! I exclaimed.
In honor of the day, we listened to Le Marseillaise while marching about patriotically and getting ready for bed.
Fast forward a few hours. The air conditioning in our apartment decided to call it quits while it was 90+ degrees outside, and we were all laying around lazily, trying to find motivation to move our do something other than wallow in the heat.
Let’s celebrate Bastille Day and liberate some people!
So we ran across the street to where the boys in our ward live and stormed several apartments, Desiree shouting to the inhabitants of the apartment that they were free while I sang Le Marseillaise in incomprehensible syllables of gibberish.
|Why yes, we did look this epic.|
After returning home, I looked up the information for Bastille Day on Wikipedia and found out the raid on the French prison in July of 1789 only released 7 people.
7 people. How anticlimactic.
After being disappointed for a while about France’s inability to pick a proper day to celebrate their country (calm down, I’m just kidding), Desiree gave me a little boost.
Think about when we went to apartment #1, and only Kyle was there. Did we falter because there was only one prisoner? Of course not! We freed him just like we did the others, and think about how much he appreciated it!
(Note: Kyle tried to ignore us and kept writing to his missionary brother. But I’m sure somewhere deep…deep…really deep down he appreciated it.)
And so we sang Le Marseillaise one last time before we started planning our next celebration:
Harry Potter’s birthday.