You might want to mark this day down in the annals of history, because I’m going to do something that I do with a frequency that loosely resembles appearances from Haley’s Comet : I’m going to offer a defense of Parisians. I don’t condone their behavior that can be perhaps best described as “salty”, but I can at least understand it. Sometimes. A little.
Imagine, for a minute, that you are a native Parisian. If it helps, grab a baguette. Maybe don’t shower for a few days. Once you’re in the mindset, think about all the things you need to do in your life today – maybe pick the kids up from school or activities, commute to and from work of course, maybe pick up some groceries or dry cleaning, attend a gang bang; you know, everyday bourgeois activity.
Think about how frustrating those things can be in and of themselves some days – the cleaning isn’t ready, traffic jam, herpes outbreak, etc. Now insert into that everyday travail, about a half dozen clueless foreigners shoving a map in your face and asking you where the Louvre is, in a language you may not understand.