After lunch, I took cash from my wallet and set my wallet down on the table (as I am wont to do). Some guy came up with a piece of paper for me to read. I’ve lived in cities enough to know that the paper said something like “I am mute, please help, God bless,” and that the best plan would be for me to skip reading the paper, keep eye contact with the guy and firmly say “no.” This guy was more persistent than his Atlanta counterparts, but I figured I’d stick with the plan and eventually he would leave.
I had forgotten about my wallet being on the table, and he had thrust his piece of paper between us so that it blocked my view of my wallet. Like lightning, our waitress (who maybe weighed 110 pounds) was almost on top of us, yelling at the guy. I looked down and she was holding my wallet an inch or two from my sternum. Nice work, French waitress.
Earlier in the day, at Notre-Dame, a guy who looked shadier than the fellow who later made a play for my wallet picked up Sophia and set her on the edge of a flower bed. He gave her some bread and had her feed the sparrows. I was a little wary for a moment, but it ended up being one of the highlights of our day.