How in the hell do we get out?

You see, he did it again. He is my husband, Henri. He is French. Living in France and being French has its advantages. Okay, he can't play the "I've got a cute accent" like he did in America, but for him, it means, he gets away with stuff. You see, there is a secret code between the French that 1) You need to know the rules (and) 2) If you know the rules, you can break them with logic.

Et voila, so this is how he parks. Now, imagine and expat trying to park like this? First of all, the mere fact of touching another car in America usually means someone is going to call their insurance and/or lawyer and well,you know the rest. However here, as a French man, he looks around and follows logic. He tells himself, the NRJ Music awards, are in town  which means parking is tough.  So, he has squeezed into this tiny, tiny space and called it "his own."  I was dreading the fight on our way back to the car. I can't even believe he could get the car out! But, since he is French, there was no fight, he was just following rule 2 because he knew rule 1. (see above)

His logic was that he needed a parking spot. I asked him, "what happens if they said he scratched their car?" then what?" With that, he simply replied in a very French way, "They cant proove any-ting!"
Gotta love the rules and how the frogs break them here. That's the unfair advantage of an x-pat like me. I follow the rules to a T, worried I'm going to break some crazy law in a foreign country and be locked up in a small prison cell, forced to eat very bad croissants all day.

Hmmm.  I'm sure this happens everywhere, rule-breaking. What rules do you break where you live? You know what I'm talking about, the small rules, because you know you can get away with them because either you know the entire town, or the mayor or because of your nationality? I want to hear about them.