A Danse Macabre in Paris with Jim Morrison

I was a bad hang in Paris (sorry, Rach).

My first meeting with Jim Morrison was a letdown. For one thing, he’d already been dead for the last 38 years. For another, the crowds at Père-Lachaise cemetery, where they buried the Doors’ frontman, kept me from getting close. Dad tried to console me: "You can't honor Jim Morrison's grave unless you drink a whole bottle of bourbon and vomit on it, anyway."

Then there’s the second time. Paris, Autumn 2022.