The Scene: The Boy and I are walking home from dinner at one of my favorite Lebanese joints. We walk along the Ile de la Cit�, and stumble upon La Conciergerie.
The Time: Roughly 1 am.
The Temperature: Impending-spring-feeling air.
The Moon: Just shy of full.
The Dialogue:
TB: I know what the Palais de Justice is for, and I know that there is the Sainte-Chapelle, but what exactly is La Conciergerie?
Me: Not sure. I mean, I know it used to be a prison, but what is it now? I don't think I've ever even noticed that little entrance before. If they hadn't put that big red sign out there explaining what it was, I wouldn't have known.
TB: Maybe it has something to do with weapons? Or Marie-Antoinette? Or the police station?
We walk three steps and spy two young, handsome police-y guardsmen standing outside their little booth in front of the Palais de Justice.
TB: (always the shy one) Let's ask them! I betchya they don't know.
Me (internally): They have to know. They're standing four feet away from the door.
TB: Hello. Excuse me. Can I ask you something?
Guard 1: Um... ok.
Me (internally): These are some strapping young lads!
TB: Well, my girlfriend won't stop annoying me about this, so we need to get to the bottom of it.
Me: What?
Guards look at me.
Me: Annoying you?
TB: (ignoring me) I thought you might know the answer. So - can you tell us: What is La Conciergerie?
Guard 1 steps back and looks away.
Guard 2 strokes his imaginary beard.
Silence
Guard 2: I think they taught us about that once.
Guard 1: Um... something about the king?
Guard 2: We stand here all day, every day... we should know this.
Guard 1: I think you guys should go online tonight to figure it out.
They were obviously quite embarrased, but we weren't intentionally trying to do so. Notice, however, that at no point did they actually outright say, "I don't know." Interesting.
For those curious, here.
Isn't it the woman's prison? Or... have I got my monuments mixed up?
who the hell are you?