This one time in Paris

A few years ago after finishing my Master's degree, I decided to do what any responsible broke adult would do and rewarded myself with a trip to Europe.  So, my best frand and I got drunk on cherry wheat and bought tickets to Spain one fateful evening.  We had a mutual friend who was living in England, so the plan was he would meet us in Madrid and from there we would fly to Paris, then Portugal, and back to Madrid. I could write an entire book on this trip and maybe I will one day, but for now I will just share a bit about Paris.

For their protection, I have changed the names of my travel buddies. We will call him Beavis and her R. Kelly...they may run for office one day so you can never be too careful. Anyway R. Kelly and I flew into Madrid and the plan was to meet up with Beavis at a bar we had previously selected and stay two days in Madrid before venturing on to Paris. Somehow thanks to an obscene amount of alcohol, R. Kelly and I never found Beavis. We were silly kids and didn't bring cell phones or anything logical like that. We got our own hostel and just hoped we would run into him on the street somehow. It wasn't until we arrived at the airport a few days later (completely hungover and having stayed up way too late with some Irish men) that we finally saw our dear Beavis...he was not happy with us. Luckily he had a friend living in Madrid so he was able to crash with him, but it took some serious work to un-piss him off.

(Skip to the Lourve)

We arrived in Paris that night and found a place to stay, being the wise travelers that we are, we made no advanced plans or reservations and just hoped for the best. The hotel, while anything but fancy seemed like the Ritz to us because we spent the rest of the trip in hostels. As soon as we checked in and un-loaded our bags we tromped around the city to see the sights. It was beautiful and wonderful and I can't wait to go back one day. That night, after lots of touristy antics we were excited to party it up with some Frenchies. We walked and bar crawled and really just didn't find any trouble to get into. We began to think maybe Paris is not a good party city and we would just need to enjoy the sights and save our wild sides for Portugal and Madrid.

We went to bed that night only semi-wasted and woke the next morning for more exploring, museums, and of course French baguettes. After a full day of traipsing around we decided whatever, if the bars in Paris are lame we can make our own fun. We bought a fifth of Bacardi, a 2-liter of Diet Coke, and a pack of cigarettes (when in France, right?? JK I used to be a smoker...I know gross). We went back to our tiny room and chain smoked and killed that fifth. There was no ice machine in the hotel so we enjoyed our rum and diets nice and warm, in Paris, in August.

After all that booze we decided a nice dinner was in order and figured we would then call it a night. We found a cute restaurant and ordered a bottle of wine and some food. After two bottles and a light meal, we asked our waitress where was a good place to find rowdy bars. We told her about our dilemma the night before and she drew us a map on a napkin of the best area to party and also gave our cab driver directions. Whoever said the French are rude has clearly never traveled with me.

(our map)

The first place we walked into turned out to be a death metal bar. We sat down ordered a few drinks and got to talking to some of the locals. When asked if she liked death metal, R. Kelly replied, "oh ya! I love Nickleback!" Beavis was scared for our lives and ordered the entire bar a round of shots. He made us leave right after, I don't know why he was so concerned because even death metal dudes love boobs, we all know that.

The next bar we wandered to was a gay bar where Beavis was kindly asked by the waiter, "what is the point of you?" We still don't know French waiter, we still don't know.

Several stops later we found ourselves in a Canadian bar. By this time we were drunker than your average bear, and we soon made friends with a very attractive and wealthy couple from Chicago, as well as an Australian bartender, and a Dutch dude. R. Kelly and I kissed boys from multiple continents that night, we are worldly like that. After closing the bar, the couple invited the Aussie, the Dutch boy, and us back to their hotel. As drunk as I was, I still remember it was the fanciest hotel I have ever set foot in. I wish I had taken photos, but sadly I did not. We all went to the room and continued to drink and kiss boys. It was delightful. Eventually it was decided we should all go to the strip club. We got in a few cabs and were deposited in front of a strip club (while I have no record of the exact time, I imagine it was 4 or 5 am by this point). The Chicago husband paid for every one's admission and we were about to go in when one of my friends (I won't say who) could no longer stand or walk. 

The three of us made our first responsible decision of the night and bid farewell to our new friends and skipped the strip club. The only way we made it back to the hotel was by showing the cab driver a photo of our hotel, we had no recollection of the cross streets naturally. That night the friend that was too drunk to stand also took the liberty of peeing on the other two when we were trying to get him/her to bed. It sounds gross but when you are that drunk it is not really a big deal. We laugh about it now. I vaguely remember setting our alarms as we had a somewhat early flight to Portugal the next morning.

When Beavis woke us up in a panic, we all realized we had over slept. Our flight had left over an hour beforeand we now were stuck in Paris. We got a bus to the airport and it was by far the worst ride of my life. We had the hangovers to match all hangovers. On the hour long bus trip we all agreed we would be perfectly content to be executed at that point in our lives as we felt too shitty to bare. When we finally got to the airport to attempt to get on a later flight we were told not only had we missed our plane, but we were at the wrong airport. Such a smart bunch we are. $400 each later we were on a plane back to Madrid, and to this day none of us has been to Portugal....and you know what??? I don't regret a second of it.