San Francisco or Paris?

Today after a doctor appointment in San Francisco, I ducked out of the rain into a cute little french bakery on Union Street.  It was the lunch rush and things were bustling.  I ordered a latte and a crossiant heading over to the far wall to wait with other patrons.
It was a darling little cafe filled with new moms with babies nestled close, businessmen and women lunching, young people texting.  I don't even know the name of the place.  I stood there and waited and waited and waited.  Pretty soon I was fuming.  There was one woman making the coffee drinks and she stepped away to handle a problem with a seated guest.  The place was steamy with bakery smells and the rain outside.  I was considering calling the manager.
Suddenly it occurred to me - if this was Paris I would be loving it!  The people and barrista would seem so charming.  Oh, the French, so quaint and unpretentious.  I remember being in Paris last May and the heigth of the trip was when a french waiter ignored us, looking down at us with distain when we tried to order!  I laughed out loud with the memory.  Deep breath....
The line began to move.  My name was called.  It's good to be alive this spring day in San Francisco.
(I've added a picture of my Dearly Beloved and I in a Paris Cafe last May - 'Je T'aime)