L’Observateur : Rollerblade Edition

Some Paris cops pull rollerblade duty. It’s a step down from horse or bike. They roll out said cops for rollerblade parades like the one pictured above.

There is a dude who rollerblades around the 1st arrondissement who looks like Gregory Hines. He’s always riding the wrong way in the bike lane. He gets my loathe on.

It's weird seeing how interested the French are in the U.S. presidental election. John McCain was on the cover of the Metro paper this week, and I saw a magazine cover that asked “Who Is Barack Obama?” Even the Australians are interested. America still matters ... but only because we have more guns and ammunition.

Standing on Rue Birague with my boss Glenn and his Swedish business partner Joanna, I realized his fly was down. He was eating some kind of danish, and I didn’t want to embarrass him in front of her, so I waited to bring it up. Then I realized my fly was down. I wondered what Joanna was thinking.

A client came in from Hong Kong. He was in a big hurry to get to a meeting way out in the suburbs. I checked him into the apartment in a flash and escorted him on the 14 to the A at Chatelet and threw him on the train as it was pulling out. I stood on the platform afterward and made sure he was on the right one. I'm fairly sure he was. I haven't seen or heard from him since.

The hard drive in my computer died this week and I took it to the Apple store. The repairman spoke no English and was very annoyed with me. The throng of unsatisfied customers waiting in line behind me were kind enough to blurt out whatever he was asking me, but they were equally annoyed. “He’s saying you are going to lose all of your data!” “It’s going to take at least a week.”

Matt and I have plans to go busking.

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