I guess that I would like to start by thanking ISU student Aaron Senneff for his fan mail. This guy has offered to be our manager if we are ever looking for one. That is the kind of support that the manufacturers of bunhuggers long for, and so do we.

I spent my summer (and it was the best of my young life) in France. And although some things are the same over there, it is the little differences that make you go hmmm. It is true McDonald’s sells the Royal with Cheese. American Sandwich shops decorate the streets. But really, these sandwiches are not at all that American because they are made with French bread and meat products.

In addition to all those “little differences” John Travolta mentioned in Pulp Fiction and American Sandwich, I noticed differences in sports coverage and athletic involvement. I love it there, but some things in the USA can’t be beat (unlike our football team).

Football as we know it does not exist. What’s more, I do not think they give a pigskin about the game’s absence. Those Europeans spend their time in front of the boob tube watching soccer, tennis, running and bicycling and the NBA playoffs. (They too like Michael Jordan.)

Soccer is their football. These men know soccer. Brazil played France in Lyon in a stadium of 23,000. I wanted to go. SOLD OUT. If the game is nowhere near you, it is very likely to be on television. This is cool.

To my blue eyes, the red clay tennis courts were a shocker. I thought, these are the world’s best, and they are skidding around on some fancy dirt? Why do they have to slide and create a dusty wake after a swing of the racket? Where are their well-deserved green-surfaced courts? Court conditions were irrelevant. The athletes adapted to the hydroplaning during games and played with skill and a skidding grace— especially that hot Brazilian man who won a big trophy.

I also watched the Tour de France. Wow. Did you know that the top riders (steel men) are so in shape that their heartbeat, while riding, is only 21 beats per minute. An average person’s resting heart rate is around 60. These men do not rest for 6 hours at a time.

Another bit on the tour: while in Paris, I witnessed a hilarious British lad and Irish fellow commentating the tour. They complained about the prices of French alcohol and said they could buy a beer for the whole bar at home for the cost of one beer in France. (I agree. At the B-52 Club, I gave up $7 for one rum and Coke.)

They talked about saddle sores, something I was completely unaware of. If this development festers in your shorts early in the tour, you are not sitting in a good position (literally).

You might not be able to finish the race. These commentators advised that riders have more than one pair of special shorts and to rub cream “into shorts” and “directly onto bum” after showering and washing. How interesting. I never learn about things like that here.

From reading this, I hope you appreciate American-style tennis courts, the cost of beer on buck night at Welch Ave. and buy two pairs of special shorts if you become an avid biker.

Amanda Fier is a senior in journalism and mass communication from Davenport.