Fat Asian Baby

In all the unpleasantness of the England trip, the Fat Asian Baby forgot about the rather cheesily exciting thing that happened before leaving Paris. When I arrived, the Eurostar waiting room at the Gare du Nord was already quite crowded. I did a quick survey of the room and, out of the corner of my eye, located a prized empty seat next to two guys who looked to be in my own age group. In order to avoid exposing that I had chosen the seat because of said guys, I did not look directly at either and quickly settled into the seat with nose buried in Vogue Paris. However, I was unable to make much progress in said magazine as the two chaps turned out to be British, and I was forced to eavesdrop on their conversation which included talking about me since they didn't know I was not a Frenchie. Anyway, dude next to me is clearly looking over my shoulder at magazine because he begins talking about Karl Lagerfeld, who was on the particular page I was pretending to read. Anyway, the conversation between the two took a turn towards designers and work and it soon became clear that they were both models. At this point, the Fat Asian Baby felt compelled to steal a glance, and lo and behold, I had hit the jackpot, not only were the guys my age, but they were fucking gorgeous. When one ran off to the bathroom for a moment, I took the opportunity to reveal my status as an English-speaker and struck up conversation. Turns out they both were with the same agency and had been in Paris for some show or something modelly related. The Fat Asian Baby tried to act all nonchalant but inside could not help being quite pleased with herself that she unintentionally had landed herself between two beautiful men with English accents who were both straight but could also appreciate fashion. Damn. Too bad that, by extension of FAB's Air Travel Theorem, I was forced to part ways with my potential husbands because we were not in the same train car.