TNC is still drinking in France:
I tell you again that this is as far from home as I’ve ever been in my life. I was more afraid walking the streets of Paris than I have ever been walking through the projects. American violence, I know well. Your raise your hands. You run. You curl up in a ball. You choke a man out. You stay strapped. This is a dialect of my early years. I think of that scene [above] in The Wire where Bunny Colvin is working with group of alleged scrappers. These kids have seen the worst of West Baltimore. Then Bunny takes them to a steakhouse, where they are flummoxed by the specials, the quietness, the difference between the waitress and the hostess. The curtain fails away to reveal our hardrocks presently transformed into shook ones. On North Avenue we are kings. In Ruth’s Chris we are peasants. And we know this.
The Dish 