We were going to a movie premiere of Polytechnique, which I scored free tickets to from a random newspaper reporter while waiting in line for HAIR tickets (HAIR is awesome, by the way, despite or perhaps because of a lacklustre plot and odd songs), but we went the wrong way on the metro and ended up in the Village. The village is colourful, happy, and utterly non-threatening. My (awesome, bisexual, dating a French/British rugby player) roommate and I held hands and wandered through various fetish shops, trying to decide whether or not to get our boyfriends pink sequined man thongs. This impromptu excursion was followed my croissants at a cafebar whose proprietor fixed my french accent and offered us free baklava when we sat there for two hours.
[post a heartfelt and prolonged goodbye from the cafebar owner]
Roommate (who is ridiculously, shockingly, mindnumbingly stunning): I always feel awkward when guys are that nice to me.
Me: Taylor, honestly, no one is hitting on you! They were FLAMINGLY GAY! (loud enough for most of street to hear)
Random short fat black dude: Hey ladies, I'm looking for a girl myself right now. Naw, I'm just playing wit'chall! How ya doin'! You have yourself a good night now!
