When 50 million visitors come every year to New York, you can expect to hear the world’s languages all around you. But for some reason, this time I heard French everywhere. Sometimes it seemed as though NYC had become an arrondissement of Paris.
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On the red steps of Times Square.
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Cela ne veut pas une mauvaise chose.
The French love New York. Saying (or pretending) you’re from NY when you go to France is the closest thing Americans have to a Canadian flag patch. It buys you a modicum of capital. Of course, New Yorkers extend no such good will to visiting Parisians. Like everyone else, they’re just in the damn way…