These days, the Eiffel Tower lights up blue because it’s France’s turn to be head of the European Union or something like that. When sitting in our kitchen at night, you can see the Tower’s rotating spotlight beaming over the building across the street, and since there are siren sounds about every 10 minutes, it really gives you that “jailbreak” feeling.
Last semester I had the worst mailbox in the office. Ground level, right behind where people stand to use the photocopier. I assumed it was for “the new guy,” and that I was being hazed, but it turns out that the boxes are alphabetized, and two people who have last names which begin before “H-O” have been hired by the school since May. I am now upper left, eye level, directly in front of the doorway.
I’m fairly certain that the French I.T. guy at my work hates my guts. It was the same at my last job, but the I.T. guy was American.
The phrase “Old Punks Turn to Reggae” rings true for me.