|b l o g|
I've returned. I was happy there & am happy here. There are a number of things I will not miss about France (the sorry-it's-Sunday-Monday-August attitude towards running businesses, the walking in the middle of the goddamned sidewalk, hallway, etc., *every* time, the French?). But I must miss the deference to men. At the airport security counter ('Oh? Your *boyfriend* is here!') I was given Amy's passport (after all, with her boyfriend around, what business could she have with an identity?) and was told to check my bags. Amy's bag was checked by a security agent with hands and a gadget on the ground.
But now: if I have underwear with a Metro map on them, that's metrosexual, right?