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Saturday, September 7, 2013

The Private Life of Charles DeGaul

Today was one of those end of summer but not quite yet fall days which are so sublime.  The sky is extra blue, the air starting to develop a crispness but there is no chill.  Just some of the finest weather this side of the Mississippi.

I ventured to Lafayette for a pastry.  Lafayette is a new French bistro by the acclaimed Andrew Carmellini on -- Lafayette Street.  A couple of things about the place: it's quite large and airy; it's quite blue, as in there are checkered blue floors and the waiters wear blue shirts; finally, there are many very attractive African American or perhaps just African women who are part of the hostess staff.  I might add that, naturally, all of these attractive women were quite taken by me.

Now, on to the pastries.  They had croissants, eclairs, macaroons, etc.  I got myself an apple almond tart.  It was enjoyable enough.  I also had a house-prepared orange juice made of oranges, blood oranges, grapefruit, pink grapefruit and hibiscus.  The tab for these two things came to an astounding $14.  I feel like an idiot as I type that. Or rather, I felt like an idiot as I typed it.

As I sat to consume my $14 cake and orange juice, one of the hostesses -- one of the African ones -- smiled at me and complimented my oxford shirt.  "I like your oxford shirt," she said.  I smiled back and complimented her black dress and skin tone.  "I like your black dress and your black skin," I said.  Her heart beat palpably faster, and I knew I was in the early stages of a love affair.

The End.