So I finally went to Paris and the weather was nice! YEAH!
The flight over was a little bit more than the usual punishment since I had to fly through Chicago to get the frequent flier seats. But I had a nice little pill to help me make it through the flight and United even gave me a free cocktail, so that really put me out. Plus, leaving from Chicago means you don't get to Paris until 930 or so, much more civilized than the 630AM arrival from DC.
The first thing my niece said to me? "Did you bring my DS?" The first thing my nephew said to me? "Did you bring us anything?" Love them to death, but how about a hello Uncle Trey? Is that to much to ask? The DS was a big hit. And it's amazing how quickly they can master the games. It reminded me of my days at the arcade playing
Tron (which I *RULED* at). And how quickly they go into the zone and are quiet as they go through level after level. I did "borrow" the DS a couple of times to try my hand at it. It really is fun and so very addictive. But like I need another way to throw my time away?
Now, with the better weather (and btw it still rained almost everyday) and the sun coming down (sometimes) you get better feel for Paris. But you also get a better smell of it. And maybe "better" isn't the right word. It's amazing how many times I would be walking down the street and smell some just amazing perfume, and then someone would walk by who obviously doesn't use deoderant or bathe frequently and that pungent smell would want to make you hurl. The other smell I must comment on is urine. Sure there is dog poo everywhere, but you just ignore that. But with the warmer weather, the smell of urine seems to waft through Paris. One day as I was walking through the
Tuilleries I realized that I need to rest. So I saw the sign for the WC and headed over. The steps down to the left led into a small restroom where for only 40 centimes (probably a buck with the exchange rate sucking so bad) you could relieve yourself in a clean, decent smelling bathroom. I did my business and headed back up the stairs when I realized that instead of walking down the stairs to the left, some guy had walked down the stairs to the right and was pissing in a corner. So you're too cheap to pay 40 centimes to use a public bathroom? I mentioned this to my sister and she laughed. She said that it doesn't even surprise her anymore when some guy will just turn against a wall and let loose. And sadly, I did see that two more times. How odd. Have you no shame? No dignity? No common courtesy for your fellow Parisians? Apparently not.
But Paris is not all about the strange odors. Paris is about the food (love the pain d'raison!), the beautiful architecture, the Eiffel Tower, Sacre'Cur, the Marais, and just people watching. I did get up twice to run down the Champs. That's one of my favorite things to do. Well, it would be it it actually didn't involved running, but I digress. So I'm hauling my fat carcass up and down the Champs and I LOVE the people watching. First of all, everyone is IMMACULATELY dressed. I mean there is some fierce fashion going on! Second, they are all very thin. Really, like rail thin. Which is probably do the cigarette that is surgically attached to their face. Ye gads people, put the cancer sticks down!
On Friday night, my sister and my BNL had a dinner party to go to, so I head to the gayhood, the Marais, to grab a bite to eat and to wander. And what do I run into? The Bear Happy Hour! Outside of a bar called, "Le Cox Cafe." Naturally. It was insane, there must have been a 50 people hanging out on the side walk outside of the bar. And while few of them would really qualify as bears on weight alone, a lot of them were sporting some decent facial hair, or shaved heads, or some interesting tatoos. As I approached this swarm of men, I realized that they were all on the sidewalk is because you can't smoke in restaurants. So my first order of business is to get inside and order a beer. And it was packed inside also. I wormed my way to the front of the bar and quickly ordered a beer. It was so packed that I was momentarily trapped at the bar, but I was okay with that because one of the bartenders was drop dead gorgeous. Tall, muscled, tight NYPD tank top stretched across his very firm chest, and a huge tribal tatoo on his shoulder/arm. HOT! But eventually I started to have a little bit of claustrophobia, so I escaped from the bar and hovered near the door where there was little bit of space. So I'm slowing sipping my beer and I realize that I have no idea what I'm doing here. I don't speak French. The odds of me going up to some guy and trying to have a conversation with them are insanely low. And I'm tired of getting jostled. So I bail to a little pizzeria down the street. I sit in the outside of the cafe, and of course there are two guys sitting next to me. I'm not really paying attention to me until the waft of smoke comes my way. Since we are technically outside, he can smoke. Fine! I've got some good real estate and I'm not moving. But the funny thing, is that said smoker is apparenlty sick and coughing up a lung. So he has this huge coughing fit, and then pulls out another cancer stick. Obviously he's not too bright.
Overall it was a great, fun, but too short trip to Paris. It was good seeing my sister, BNL, niece, and nephew. I may try to go back in September, but we'll see.
