We are ancient

So, B and I just got back from an evening out. One of our stops was at a pub called Le Dix (10) in the Odeon neighborhood. Now, Brad and I know that we live near the Sorbonne on the left bank and are surrounded by young, hip French college kids. However, we had no idea how ancient they thought we were until we stepped into Le Dix. As we descended into a centuries old cellar, thanking God that the French miraculously banned smoking in bars and restaurants, we were met with a couple tables of very young, 18-20ish hip French kids in clothes Americans won't even dream of for at least two years. An old Frenchman who looked like Hemingway came to take our order - the requisite Heinekens. I swear that a hush came over the few young, hip French kids that were there when they heard our order, but surely I was mistaken.

Wrong.

After about 20 more minutes of being there, the room was FILLED with an array of the aforementioned young, hip French people who only drank the house Sangria which "Monsieur Hemingway" poured from a ladle he dipped into what I can only describe as a wooden bucket and then sloshed into a pitcher, threw in a spoon and slammed down the needed number of glasses at each table.

Suddenly, looking around, 3 things became increasingly obvious:

1. B and I are ANCIENT compared to the young, hip French kids
2. We totally have no idea what to order at Le Dix (which is obviously the sketchy Sangria from a wooden bucket)
3. Everyone else there was staring at the "old, American Heineken drinkers" and getting a good French laugh in...