Even when the flower guy was there! I was terrified. One thing I will say, Parisian flower-seller dudes seem a lot better of in terms of health and happiness than the Florentine flower-sellers. People actually made eye contact with them. Also, I didn't see any sad gypsy kids trying to sell flowers at 2 in the morning in Paris.
We are silly tourists.
THE BUS RIDE HOME.
When it did come time to leave, we took a night bus home. Amanda was all for getting a cab, but, no, night bus. It probably took longer to get on the right bus than it would have taken to walk; it was crowded with drunk people and lurchy and smelly.
But had we not taken the night bus, we would not have overheard French/Arab Drunk dude with Earring chat with Sassy French-Speaking German Girl, and completely fail to pick her up. And completely fail to notice that she was making fun of him in front of the entire bus. It was like third grade, it was awesome.
And then he moved on to Amanda, who does not speak french. that's ok, he would admire her golden hair in Spanish. She just repeats, drunk and two years out of any spanish class, 'No. No.' He points at her necklace, which is a cross. He thinks he's reaching out to another christian, or something, but Amanda pulls it together for a 'NO. QUIERO. HABLAR. CON. TU!'
It was perfect. And then it was our stop, or close enough. And that was the end of that.
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