At one point, I was waiting in a queue for a lift when a woman suddenly slid over the front of my skis to the small space in front of me. I was giving her the benefit of the doubt and assuming that she couldn’t help it until her husband followed suit. A sarcastic “Allez-y” popped out of my mouth before I could help it but Monsieur just glided serenely on after Madame. Later, I overtook them on the slopes and Monsieur suddenly sped up just to have the pleasure of passing me (on the inside, bien sûr). It could have been the périphérique but for one big difference: he did it with a beaming smile and such insouciance that I smiled back. Even Parisians have to relax a little bit on holiday.