I staked out a table with an adjacent red vinyl couch and ordered a chèvre chaud salad. It was good, a nice balance of salad, tomatoes, dressing, green beans, walnuts, and three pieces of toast topped with chèvre topped with a bit of pesto. The waiter here is a bit animated/scary; he seems to enjoy telling his fellow servers apparently hillarious things and then bursting out in laughter. Right now he's cleaning the big metal lights hanging over the bar -- they look like glass heads wearing metal Chinese top hats. The rest of the staff seems a bit more subdued. All of them are wearing black shirts and pants. The woman manning the tabac counter is cleaning her light as well, as a couple waits patiently to buy cigarettes. My waiter seemed quite happy when I ordered food, a pleasant surprise for him, I guess, since I'm not sitting in the lunch section.
The table under my disposable corrugated white table mat is square, a nice dark wood. The chairs opposite my couch seem to be mahogany as well; the seat backs are curved and angled, symmetrically warped to be more aesthetically pleasing (and more comfortable, probably). Though I'm having no fault with my comfy, cushioned sofa seat.
The sugar I was given is of the powdered maroon-tubed Café Richard variety. The cup also sports the Café Richard name and trademark maroon squiggle which runs around the edge of the saucer as well. My carafe of water was cold. Not ice cold, but cold enough to make me happy. The ashtray says Heineken.
Two men at the bar have just greeted each other by exchanging four kisses, not that there's anything wrong with that. One is in jeans and the other has a suit and a briefcase. A balding man has stepped up to the bar wearing a black jacket that says "WEST" and then "BREAK ARROW" on in with a picture of an Indian in between. I wonder if they meant to put "Broken Arrow" but translated it backwards badly. Or maybe Broken Arrow is a trademark and this guy couldn't afford the real thing.
I hear some repetitive dance music in the background, and there's sports on the TV monitors, but neither of these things is bothering me too much at the moment.
Metro: Hôtel de Ville
Copyright © 2002 David Sadegh.
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