The taxi driver did not seem to understand my request for him to take me toPigalle and I knew it wasn't my french which was the problem. It turnedout...he was Romanian.I wrote it down for him but when we reached the Place de la Concorde, whichI had seen pictures of, I realised I had to get out a map because I knew weshould be nowhere near there. After thirty minutes we eventually got toPigalle and I was left wondering if I would have been quicker to go bytrain, I have since learnt that I would. We went over to one of the tables, a row or two back from the stage so the skinny dancer on stage wouldn't expect me to pay too much attention to her. "So what happened, did he harass you?" He said I wasn't thin enough to be a dancer," she said. "I know I've put on a few pounds lately, but I'm always first or second in tips--" Which means he has no frickin' clue what guys like me like," I said. I looked her over. Yeah, maybe she was a little broader in the behind lately, and her little tummy. More

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