Les Halles

"I don't wanna wait, for our lives to be over.
I want to know right now, what will it be?"
~ Paula Cole, Dawson's Creek Soundtrack

I feel like Jennifer Aniston, when she was with Brad. Last night Rasta and I took Nanner out to dinner in thanks for loaning us her room, twice. She's a doll. Anyway, Rasta was in town for some boring-ass engineering something, that I would've paid more attention to if I didn't know that that meant he was coming to DC. I didn't care why really, just that he was coming. He's my new escapist drug. Not that I ever had an old one. I got all dressed up and cute, and we got there a little late...only to find out that the reservation was for two, and Rasta wasn't joining us. I had a huge pout on the inside for most of dinner.

The place was cute, though. Nanner insisted on sitting outside, even though she still had a touch of the flu and ended up having to wear my coat all night. It turned out fine, though: I have considerably more insulation than she does. Tried to make the most of dinner and to be a good conversationalist, even though I paused to notice every taxi that stopped in front of the restaurant. I knew he was coming, I just wanted him to come soon so that we could have more time together. My thoughts were distracted, however, when a couple of caucasian males got up and left..which was fine, except for the fact that the garçon was running after them. One of the men, both obviously drunk, turned around and started cursing him out for taking too long to bring the bill (or the check, as they say here). It's so hilariously funny when button-down businessmen get drunk and start acting like idiots. When that drama was over, the same garçon came up to us and announced that Rasta called, and was paying for our dinner. That was the moment I felt like Jen. I don't feel like explaining why. Go read some old tabloids to find out...they're more interesting than this anyway.

Finalmente, I heard a taxi stop in a spot that I couldn't see and out of the darkness appeared my Rasta, looking sexy as hell, as usual. That moment couldn't have been better if it were written and directed by the makers of Dawson's Creek. We sat and talked for a bit. He and Nanner harassed each other to no end, as usual. Then we walked around downtown DC for a bit looking for an ATM. It was gay, but at least I got to see him, and hold his hand. He put us in a taxi back to the towers, and jumped in one himself, back to Virginia.

Oh, if you're ever on Pennsylvania Ave, go check out Les Halles, it's pretty good.