|The only picture Kellie will allow.|
To the delight of Parisian men and male tourists, the oppressive heatwave gripping Paris had impelled many women to shed their brassieres and don skimpy clothing, making the jittery ride on crowded subway trains slightly more tolerable. But outside, stuck in a downpour, lightweight blouses became magically transparent, turning Paris into spring break in Fort Lauderdale.
I remained in the line while Kellie and my daughter ran underneath the branches of a large tree and huddled with their umbrella. I had an umbrella, too, and felt guilty about not sharing my shelter with someone. I had room for another person but there were so many in need. Naturally, I asked the young man ahead of me, a twenty-something Spaniard from Elizondo, if his girlfriend would like to cozy up next me (I probably didn't use the word cozy). She jumped under my umbrella. The poor thing was only wearing tight, black shorts and a low cut, red tank top. Soaked and shivering, she bounced up and down in a desperate attempt to generate body heat. Her arms were folded across her chest, each hand cupping a breast, creating the same effect as a Victoria's Secret Wonderbra. I don't know if her gyrations helped her ward off the cold, but I was getting warmer.
Chivalry is not dead.