Just across from us there was a display case with a hat that looked downright Napoleonic. (Sorry for the blurry photo, but I hope you can make it out!) We were speculating on its story – had it really belonged to Napoleon? Had he dined here too? Had he forgotten it one night after drinking too much? Mr. K. thought that perhaps he had left it in payment for his food one night when he was broke (I said ya, sure, Napoleon broke…ha!). So I asked the maître d’, who said that indeed it was one of Napoleon’s hats, and he had given it in payment for his coffee years before he crowned himself Emperor. Gosh! And I had to pay with real money!
Waiters in Paris are very professional - it's not just a job to pay for college, it's a career. Just before I left I observed a waiter carrying in a couple platters of oysters-on-ice. He had a towel draped over his forearm, and it fell. Without missing a step, while it was still in mid-air and before anyone (else) could see, he gave it a quick soccer kick to underneath an unoccupied table. SCORE!
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