The way I see it....

Starbucks really out to be outlawed in a city like Paris. The idea of American tourists ordering their grande skim mocha lattes every day like they're doing their morning subway commute is more then I can bear. There are beautiful cafes on every corner of this city and yet investment bankers and soccer moms alike insist on regularly paying 7 euros for their native caffeine fix.

I greatly dislike these people, I really do.

Unfortunately - and I'm ashamed to admit this in public (or on the internet, which is essentially the same thing) - over the past few weeks I've become a Parisian STARBUCKS CONVERT. Now before you stone me with accusations of hypocrisy, hear me out. Even though I'm about to take the low road by absolving myself of all responsibility. I'm blaming this unfortunate situation on the Cafe Paradox (a term I'm in the process of copyrighting), to describe the contrary rules of Parisian cafe owners. You can take 4 hours to eat lunch but take out your laptop and the waiter will hustle you out like your afflicted with bubonic plague. Likewise, as soon as they see a highlighter the bus boy who was making eyes at you earlier will suddenly decide that you're public enemy #1.

I have hundreds of pages to read each week and I simply cannot do it in the 5 by 10 water closet I call my apartment. And so, after being glared and stared far too many times I've done the unthinkable, packed up all my shit and plonked myself down at my local Starbucks.

So here I sit, unbothered underneath the dimmed lights, easy listening on the stereo, and drinking the most putrid cappuccino I have ever had the misfortune of consuming. What fresh hell is this?