Paris: Saturday Night

Took a stroll down the strip; I’m not going to bother trying to spell French names any more 🙂 The night life was fairly tame but there were lots of clubs with large men standing in front blocking the door to keep filthy people like me out. I came back pretty early and am heading to bed as soon as it cools off enough to sleep. I’m ready to leave Paris. Like I said earlier, maybe another time with more money. And fucking air conditioning. In April, or October. The heat and stink is just unbearable. Here’s to hoping it’s cold in Germany!

I put up some night time pictures of Paris and from the top of the arch. I now know why it’s called the Arch de’ Triumph (or something spelled something like that). You feel triumphant when you reach the top of the 284 stair circular stair case. It’s funny, at the top is a mass of people panting and heaving and generally dying. Me too.
The view was incredible though, and it was very peaceful and quiet.

One final complaint and then I swear I’ll go back to being upbeat and fun.
What is it about sports that makes people such complete assholes? World Cup fans are running around just being lame and starting shit with people. And not friendly shit, just shit. Two particular assholes are on the subway and decide to light cigarettes. You can’t smoke on the subway. Some old French guy tells them, nicely, that you can’t smoke on the subway so they both light up while staring at the guy and then blow smoke in his face. I look over to see what’s going on and they start to get in my face. I’m staring them down thinking I’m going to end up in a fight in a foreign country and the train stops and they get off. Then they stand outside the door flipping me off until the train leaves.


Goodnight Paris, you stinky bitch.

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