That's me on the far right, in the tan jacket and jeans. I'm blaming photo manipulation for the brobdingnagian dimensions of my left ear. Can't trust those journalists.
Yesterday, when assisting my last guests load themselves, their 800 pounds of luggage, and their twin 11-month old boys onto the train to Stuttgart, I noticed a man with a massive camera taking pictures of the goings on on the platform. His slovenly dress gave him away as a professional photographer.
Perhaps with this memory gestating in my subconscious, I decided to pick up the free local daily given out to users of Strasbourg's tram line this morning. And lo and behold, there I am, right on the front page, along with Dave. For those of you wondering, I'm wearing footwear appropriate for a 12-year-old because after three weeks of force marching visitors over the cobblestone streets of Strasbourg, my feet freakin' hurt.
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And we can say we knew you when...
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