it may have been the lowest point of the pub to date. i haven't been going there that long, but i began my parisian nightlife here, back in september and been going there ever since. so i found myself back on the barstool opposite my friend (featured in "desperados") after a three week absence... but things have happened. there is now a "no smoking" sticker on the door. and it might as well be the stamp of the skull, cause it was absolutely dead inside. but a beer is a beer and the barmaid still has the same lovely smile and served us foie gras because she's so nice and hungarian. so we settled into our conversation, the music was fine, when things began to happen. a regular crystallized as a fragile depressive with an odd walk. after asking to change the song to which we protested (since it was a darn good song called "lilly" by aaron) he ended up at his table broken down in tears. another guest arrived on the bar, the creepy crawling kind aka the cockroach. this one was happy though until he was smooshed by the barmaid. so the music was changed, but to no avail. the tears kept flowing and the only thing to do was to order another beer and laugh at the absurdity of it all. it can get lower, my friend said, when the barmaids begin to cry. so for now they are smiling and the pub is alive. to be continued...
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