Paris Is Burning!

Paris trip-gone! Last night, my London host injured his knee while crossing the street, the narrow street. A freak accident, involving a car. This morning he woke up and told me he didn't think it would be a good idea to travel today. Knee not doing well, mate. So, no Paris. Disapointed, yes. But not distraught. I'm still in London. Now just have to figure out what plan B is.
While my friend rest his knee, I may just jump on the tube and go exploring. I love public transportation. Riding into SW London from Heathrow yesterday, I was struck by how non-confrontational the British are. I was a littly punchy from all the travelling, and staring blankly into space. At one stop, this big mean ferocious looking dude got on the tube and took a seat near me. He looked up, saw me staring at him, and immediately averted his eyes. I wasn't trying to stare the guy down, I was just in a fog, and didn't realize I was staring. In Chicago, that dude would have asked what my fucking problem was, and may even have kicked my ass. It's not like that here.
We went to a great Indian restaurant last night. Hanging out with the young urban profesionals of London, we discussed everything from British monetary policy, to the pre-Thatcher, post Churchill Prime Ministers. I also gave a dissertation on the finer points of bbqing pork shoulder. (A subject everyone seemed fascinated with, after several cocktails and ales.) So, no Paris, but all is not lost.