It was my first morning back in Paris. I woke up to a sunny 70 degree day and made my way over to a cafe where I had traditionally enjoyed many meals with friends over the past eight years. As I walked the familiar streets, I breathed a sigh of relief for being away from the hustle and bustle of New York.
As I turned the final corner, a sign in a distressing shade of dark green caught my eye, Yes, Starbucks had installed itself directly across the street from my safe haven. At that very moment, I heard a vulgar American accent in my ear...
"Oh my GOD - it's a Starbucks. Thank Goodness!!!"
And a herd of American tourists, all three-times wider than normal with blue jeans only two-times wider than normal rushed down the sidewalk like cattle and nearly missed being hit by the oncoming traffic as they rushed to the Starbucks door.
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