It turns out I can drink at lunch even if there is no where for me to immediately lie down and sleep.
After a 3 hour slog around Paris we ducked into Ladurée after a quick look at the newly wrapped Arc de Triomphe (à la Christo, in some sort of homage type deal—apparently the French cannot think of other more productive things to do with their money—at least I can say I saw it, so, you know . . . score). I was more interested in where and what we were doing vis à vis lunch. Ladurée is a favorite spot, it was near and since we were killing time between our Parisienne domiciles. . . .
We moved out of our hotel at 9 am but unable to access our AirB&B until 4pm. In retrospect, a 7 hour lag time between squats is not exactly optimal following a grueling few days of travel that followed a grueling few days of worrying about travel.
Ladurée did not disappoint. I had some sort of avocado toast contraption and he had an asian chicken sandwich. But the real point was that I had a beer (in a super cool aluminum bottle) and I did not fall immediately asleep which is usually what happens if I drink at lunch. Of course I could have just laid down on a bench and pretended to be a Parisian (a down and out Parisian, but a Parisian nonetheless) instead we trudged all over hell and back logging an astonishing 14 miles, arriving with some difficulty at our new abode around 4:30. Just in time for that nap.
