Last night, I was ready to leave work when I noticed it was raining, putting a (literal) damper on my plan to bike home. So I decided to instead accept the invitation to drink with some of my colleagues.
One of the art directors I work with, the one who doesn’t speak such great English, is a bit of a partier. It was the second time he told me to stick around and have some wine in the evening. So I did. And it was great.
It was around 6:30 and everyone was ready for a drink after the long week. After a few sips, some of the Frenchies were ready to practice their English on me and I was ready to respond in French. By 7, the cigarettes were out, the music was blaring, and our cool Beaux Art office was as good as any bar.
As I was chatting with one of the art directors, I told him about my fall from the Velib. After he expressed the appropriate concern, I said, “Oui, comment dit-on ‘lucky’?”