Yesterday, after Dan and I took care of purchasing our metro cards, we kissed on the busy Paris street and went our separate ways.  He to work and me to the market.  So french, I loved it. 

As I  walked down the street, I noticed the traffic was stopped and the Police were directing traffic.  I looked up the street and noticed a large fire truck parked in the middle of the street with its ladder extended as far as it could reach.  At the end of the ladder was a small stretcher with a strap.  The fireman and the bed were nearing a window on the eight floor of an old Paris apartment.  The window was open and a little old man was hoisted onto the bed and strapped on.  He was lowered down, attached to the ladder.

I thought to myself, if that didn't give him a heart attack , than I don't know what would.  The poor little man, so ill, paraded on his little stretcher for all of Paris to see. 

Note to self; don't become immobile in Paris.