The outside tables are triangular, which is a bit scary (imagine leaning forward suddenly and becoming impaled upon the pointed corner of your café table), so I'm sitting at one of the round tables just inside.

My pen has just run out of ink, but I have a spare, luckily. I was given a chocolate-covered almond with my espresso, which makes this a good day (I'm fairly easy to please), although the sugar came powdered in a tube. The coffee cup and saucer are black, and in between the cup and saucer is a little black and white checkerboard doily. The table is black, as well as the ashtray, which is heavy, round, and sports a modified Marlboro-type design. I was given a little glass of water as well. The chairs are black metal with seat and back cushions that are printed with rows of brown circles. The tables that are set have yellow tablecloths and mats and orange napkins.

The place is called a Bar Americain for some reason, though I have no idea why. I recall meeting some other people here once, and I believe we were served chips and salsa with our drinks. This time the waiter forgot what I ordered and came back a few minutes later. "Un café," I repeated.