Fat Sparrows

Today, I lunch in the sunshine at Cafe Marly, overlooking the Louvre pyramid, the Palais Royale, and the Eiffel Tower. I order a glass of Champagne (Moet & Chandon), a Caesar Salad and some water (sans bubbles) and of course the waiter delivers a glass bottle of Evian.
I’m such a cliché, I know, but as I sip champagne and wade through my lettuce, I can’t decide whether to look left to the pyramid, twinkling in its prism-like splendour, or right to the Eiffel Tower, demanding attention from afar. Ever so strangely, though, I find my eyes drawn to the fat sparrows at my feet and around my table, pecking at anything resembling a crumb and rudely eyeing off my croutons.
And then I’m distracted by the most beautiful looking couple I’ve ever seen and they sit down at the table next to mine. They are groomed to within an inch of their lives; smooth, tanned, flawless skin; glossed, pouty lips (yes, him as well) and I can’t see their eyes because they have three billion dollar sunglasses on. Their nails are clipped; their hairstyles are vogue and their clothes are impeccable. They are Yves St Laurent meets Chanel meets Louis Vuitton. They are Dolce & Gabbana, Prada, Versace, Lagerfeld darling! And I notice that she wears a ring with a stone the size of my head. It’s a sapphire and I start feeling blue because I know I’ll never be someone who attends to their nails daily or spends three billion dollars on great sunglasses or more than sixty dollars on a haircut. 

And then, the couple begin fighting. They are fighting in English, AND they are doing it with American accents! And pretty soon I don’t feel so bad that I have pale skin and bags under my eyes, that my pantalons are too tight, that I’m Target meets Kmart meets Two Dollar Discounts...and I sip on my Moet & Chandon and gaze at the Eiffel Tower.