You have to hit Can-Can at exactly the right time: too early and there's no one to talk about and too late and the din is unbearable. My favorite English teacher and I arrived at just the right time to snag a nearby window table (no sense being on complete display) and full enough to find plenty of people to discuss.
He'd been on the wagon for a bit, so he was bound to get loopy on a couple of Paulaners. I chose the Vin de Pays du Gard Syrah, but they were down to their last half glass, so I augmented it with the Chateau Vaugelas Courbieres, so as to have another shot at the [Carignan] grape of the week. Frites were also in order.
On the table were various hot topics including blogs, employers, bartending, photography, models and music. He's an observer, much like me, so we had great fun comparing notes on body parts, good and bad. He snapped some photographs because that's what he does. Before we knew it, time was up, real life responsibilities set in and we had to move on.
But not before wine god Bob Talcott had his say with us. He said farewell to English Teacher and then commented on my hot pink rain jacket and pink tights, "You'd be hard to miss at night in that." I reminded him that I hope to be hard to miss any night, to which he agreed, "I don't doubt for a minute that's true." Considering that Bob and I are running into each other at least twice a week lately, it shouldn't be long before he he knows for sure.