A couple of days ago, I left le FP on the sofa and headed out in search of a taxi to take me to meet friends for a drink in the Marais.
It was nearly one a.m. and I asked the taxi driver to drop me on the corner of rue du Temple and rue Ste Croix de la Bretonnerie. This is an intersection where you'll find at least five gay bars within twenty metres. It's kind of poofy like that.
"You smell like basil" said the taxi driver as I settled into his cab.
"Really?" said I, a little taken aback.
"Yeah, like a bowl of pasta" he replied.
"Good enough to eat?" I ventured, jokingly.
"Well, erm, maybe" he replied, definitely uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken.
"le Marais is full of queers you know" said the taxi driver.
"Really?" I said. "You do surprise me."
"Are you gay?" he asked.
"Why do you ask?"
"Well, you don't look gay but you're going to the Marais at this time of night".
"Well," I said, "I'm not gay, but my boyfriend is." I nearly pissed myself laughing at how funny I found this.
"I don't understand" said the taxi driver.
"Never mind" said I. "Probably best if you just concentrate on driving".