when the over-used "c'est un scandale" was actually used in an appropriate situation

Saturday afternoon, my just-turned 19 year old step-brother and a family friend were prospecting for apartments. We'd just toured a 5th floor walk-up exposition plein sud, and decided that we'd reward our diligent hunting with a refreshment on a cafe terrace we'd spotted on the way over. No sooner had the waiter brought me my Ricard, than a heavily pregnant woman and her friend installed themselves at a table two seats down from us.

While Stephan and I discussed trick birthday presents and the horrors of dorm rooms, I noticed the waiter arriving at the pregnant woman's table with pints of ale. Hm, I thought to myself, trying to withhold judgment. I know that Americans have a far stricter attitude when it comes to alcohol consumption during pregnancy, and at her advanced state, some doctors (in Germany?) might even extol the virtues of hops to help induce labor. Fine. But then she whipped out a packet of Marlboro lights, lit up, and commenced to downing her ambre. One, two, three cigarettes later, and she was hollering at the waiter to bring her a second pint.

My attention was riveted on her drinking and smoking. I couldn't stop staring at her, then her friend, then the bulging belly, then back to the woman's face, searching for signs of tragedy -- had she suffered terrible news and this was how she was consoling herself? Nothing but irritation at the waiter's seeming indifference to her calling him for more drinks showed.

I tried to imagine the same scene taking place at home, in California, and couldn't, because, well, it wouldn't. If an obviously pregnant woman began drinking and smoking on a terrace in San Francisco, she'd be the object of scornful looks and intervening commentary. On this side of the Atlantic, people were noticing and grimacing, but kept their comments to themselves. As did I. When in Rome?