Recently, driving through Santa Ana, California, I developed a thirst for coffee. At an intersection, I saw a coffee place that had a French name "Le Paris", and figured I'd give this a try.
As I entered the open doors (onto a lobby with a fountain) and turned the corner, I noticed it was dark. Along the sides and back were computer monitors with men sitting there, surfing the internet. Interesting, I thought. Since there was no hostess available, I picked a seat at a table and waited.
I looked for a menu on the wall, but there was none. No list of coffees, nor prices. Then a beautiful Asian girl approached me, wearing a tight black dress. She asked me what I wanted, so I said, "May I have a menu?" She said, "No, we don't have a menu." I said, "Well, what do you serve?" She looked at me credulously and said, "Coffee..?"
"Oh, okay, well, do you have hot coffee?" I asked. She pouted a bit, looked away (I think she rolled her eyes), then faced me again and nodded. I said, "Can I have a cup of hot coffee with cream and sugar?"
"Okay, would you like that strong or light?" At a loss to determine what she meant by strong or light, I asked her what was the difference. She looked up, gathering some brain cells in a moment of epiphany and gave me her answer: "Well, one is stronger and the other is... uh.... lighter..."
"I'll take the light, then. With cream and sugar." I said after her as she stomped away, her six inch stilettos tapping the floor as she walked briskly to the back.
She returned later with a wide cup of coffee that was black and set it down. Then she twirled and click-clacked away before I could ask her anything else. I don't think she even smiled.
I began stirring the coffee and all of the cream and sugar had settled at the bottom of the cup, so after 30 seconds of vigorous stirring, the coffee turned beige. It still tasted horrible, and I realized that they serve espresso and iced coffee (judging by what the other customers were drinking). I finished my coffee hastily, getting no further service and no smiles from any of the other servers that worked there.
As I was walking out, I saw that I was the only American in the place. At each table were Vietnamese men, discussing matters in their language or French. Some viewed me warily, as if I was an alien. I doubt I'll be going back, unless I want to be served by surly women in tight dresses....
