The British Are Coming! The British Are Coming!

After the wine tasting this afternoon (about 5 glasses of wine later, and I was having a terrific time), I walked up to Trocadero with some friends to get a crêpe. On the way, we passed about 4,000 Englishmen, their wives and children, and the odd group of South Africans. It. Was. A. Madhouse.

I couldn't be happier that the rugby final is tonight. First I have the "Malade Imaginaire" at the Comédie Française, and then it's straight to the Hôtel de Ville or to a pub somewhere to watch the second half of the game.

In the metro on the way back home, two English guys in jerseys and funny hats (one was wearing a "Paris" beret and the other had a Disney dwarf face) started chatting to us about Paris, England, and our hometowns in America. One thing is for sure: These English are here for a good time, and, judging by the sheer amount of beer I saw at Trocadéro, they are determined to have one.