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My friend Scott and I walked along the streets of Paris, making our way from Gare du Lyon to our accommodations on Il Saint Louis. We finally arrived and ascended four flights of stairs to the room. Inside was the first bed either of us had seen in nearly eleven days. This was because we had spent the last week and half hiking the Tour Du Mont Blanc, a 110mi trek that passes through France, Italy and Switzerland. It was an amazing experience but at this point Scott and I were exhausted. We were staying in Paris for one night and catching our flight back to the States in the morning. With less than a day in Paris we wanted to stay right in the heart of the city in order to see as much as possible. With showers taken and the allure of the bed resisted, Scott and I set out to explore. We saw the Eiffel Tower, the Arc Du Triumph and the Louvre (from the outside). Then we decided to split up and get some souvenirs for our families. I spent two hours getting gifts for a few people when I stumbled across a heavy metal record shop on a small side street. My cousin is really into metal, so I thought it would be great to get him some hard core French music. The friendly owner recommended Massacra, a classic French death metal band from the early nineties. With that purchased, I completed my shopping and set my sights on getting a drink. Luckily I did not have to look far. When I left the record store I immediately saw a sign saying “Happy Hour 4-8/ 500ml Bier/ 4,00€”, which was enough for me to pop in. I was greeted with a completely empty bar. Only the bartender and his friend were inside. Not wanting to seem rude and also being quite thirsty, I went up to the bar and ordered. The beer, unsurprisingly, was quite easy to drink and before I knew it I had already drunk the whole thing. I asked the bartender for another, when the song Spanish Bombs started playing over the speakers. I felt compelled to tell the bartender that it was the best song The Clash ever recorded and my personnel favorite. He replied, “No. London Calling is their best song”. I was taken aback by how quickly he replied and how willing he was to tell me I was wrong. The more I thought about it, the more I was amused by his response. It was a refreshing change of pace from the fake friendliness you find in so many bars. I then began to explain all the reasons why Spanish Bombs is the superior track. To no surprise of mine, he began to argue right back. We traded opinions several times and I got the feeling that he was enjoying the exchange just as much as I was. When we finally reached an impasse, I offered to buy him and his friend a drink. They accepted and then introduced themselves as Evan and Gabriel. They had been playing a game of dice on the bar when I arrived and asked if I wanted to join. In an instant, I was floored by the realization of how amazing this moment actually was. Never had I expected to be playing dice in an empty bar with two Parisians while arguing about The Clash. It didn’t seem like something that could actually happen. I hadn’t really travelled much before this trip and despite having completed one of the most famous treks in the world, having seen some of the most stunning scenery I may ever see, it was this interaction that cemented my love for travelling. It was the spark. I messaged Scotty so he could come join in the fun. When he arrived, he jumped in as if we had all been old friends. The dice continued to roll for about another hour, until other customers disturbed us with their selfish patronage. After a heartfelt goodbye, Scott and I hit the streets again, to end the day just as it began.