Postcard from France: French rappers? Oui
Me? Drive in Paris? I can barely get out of a parking lot in any U.S. location. (Bob Wojnowski, Michael Rosenberg and John Niyo can confirm). But Saturday morning I found myself tooling around the streets of Paris, zipping through the Louvre legally, although apparently I ran a light, or so I was told by my delightful car mates, Kyle Rowland of the Toledo Blade and Chris Balas of The Wolverine.
But let me rewind a bit. Kyle made the car rental reservation, but when it came time to actually picking up the car, he magically could not produce a driver’s license (insert eyeroll emoji). Yours truly became the designated driver.
But Kyle came in handy when we went to the Louvre basement garage to get the car. Apparently, the paper-thin French who work at Thrifty can manage to park a hair’s length away from the next car and still get out. Chris and I are more, well, more generously proportioned (not that there’s anything wrong with that), and lithe Kyle drew the short straw. He managed to get into the car from the back, climbed through to the front and wriggled his way into the driver’s seat.
The radio blared with French rap (which surprisingly isn’t bad) as I took over the seat. We posed for our French rap group shot and off we went. I will be eternally grateful that it was the beginning of a long holiday weekend and all the potential traffic snarls were absent. Phew.