Dumb idea of the week: retaining the anger at the taxi driver that drove me there earlier (after he bellyached at being asked if he was available and then sighed when I told him the destination, despite the fact that he was the lead vehicle in the cab stand line) and instead of just taking another taxi home, deciding to hop the 82 bus from the Hôpital Americain to our ‘hood in the 7th.
Fifty minutes, four crying kids, and one old woman reading my texts over my shoulder later, I arrived, more or less alive.
Buses: still not really a fan.
Fezzik In Paris 