Paris
When I got to Paris I met some nice policemen who had a beautiful black labrador. The dog really liked me, so the policemen wanted to talk to me. We chatted for a little while, and I told them a bit about about myself, and showed them all my stuff. They took something of mine and sent me on my way.
I got to the hostel at about 11am and wasn't able to check in till 3pm, so I left my bags and wandered around a bit. After getting some lunch/breakfast, sussing out where the hell I was (the red light district), checking in and having a shower I still had hours to kill before Nick would get there, so I picked up a litre of white from the supermache. There were a bunch of kids in black hoodies and eyeliner lining up in front of a music venue, so I went and asked who was playing: Wednesday 13, who is the singer from Murderdolls. I was told the music is like Motley Crüe meets Misfits. I hate both of them, but I decided I'd come back later and try to get into the gig.
I wandered around more and drank my wine. Eventually some guy asked me if I speak English, and would I like to buy some cigarettes. He was Polish, and he and his friend had driven from Warsaw to Paris with many cartons of cigarettes to fund their trip, for the duration of which they would sleep in their car. I bought a carton and we chatted. They offered me some of their wine, but I had my own... it was running out, though, so I went and bought another litre. I hung out with those guys for a bunch of hours chatting, while one of them called out at passing femmes "Ey, bella! Caio bella! Siete bei, sonno con me! ... "
Eventually Nick arrived, and I told him to come meet me and the Polish dudes. He brought a kiwi (who I'd met at the hostel) and a russian dude with him. I made the kiwi go buy me a third litre of wine. We hung out in the street like that for a while longer (my memory's getting hazy here) before I remembered at about 10 that I wanted to go see that gig. It was a couple of minutes walk away, so we went there, expecting to be able to get in and maybe catch the end of the support act.
When we got there the gig had finished and everyone was out the front. I knew I wanted my mohawk redone, and that one of the punks there would have clippers, and I went around the crowd shouting at people "Parlez-vous anglais? Someone shave my head! vvvvvvv*" After a little while, Nick said he and the russian and the kiwi wanted to move on cos they were cold, but I politely asked him to wait a little longer, and please step aside so that I might ask the people behind him (who I'd probably already asked, because there weren't that many people there).
None of them had one, or at least none of them were willing to take a drunk Australian guy back to their house to shave his head.
Nick had gotten sick of me and left, so I talked to the people some more. I was chatting to some some really cute goth chick (at least, I think she was really cute... like I said, my memory's a little hazy), and I bought her a rose off one of those guys and made out with her for a few seconds before getting distracted: The band was hanging out as well, between their bus and the venue: Wednesday himself was lapping up the attention of the girls in black, and the drummer was there. I formulated a plan to get on the bus with them a catch a ride to Brussels. Step One: I approached the drummer and told him that I thought the show was great and his playing occasionally reminded me of Chris Pennie from Dillinger Escape Plan. He laughed, but I kept a straight face, and I was his friend after that.
So, we hung out a bit. Wednesday and the drummer and some groupies and I went to McD's and got on the bus and sat around. The band disappeared upstairs and a bunch of us were kicked off the bus, and I figured that was the end of my night. I turned around and leaned back inside to say something and balanced on a bench and accidentally knocked over a bottle. That inspired me to knock everything else off the bench and shout "You something fucking blah blah. You guys are gonna be supporting me one day! Blah blah blah..." Then I left, and started walking back towards the hostel. But the drummer ran up behind me and was like "Hey man, chill, I like you. I just wanna go fuck these groupies for twenty minutes then we'll hang out."
That night lasted a few more hours, but I had a joint and don't remember much of it. Suffice to say I didn't get on the bus and go to Brussels, where I would have been stranded with a shitty horror punk band.
The next day I was in no state to go see the city with Nick. The Eiffel Tower's lame anyway. It would have been cool to see the Arch de Triumph, though.
The day after that I went to catch my train to London (and had to pay €70 even with my Eurail pass... it would have been €200 without it... outrageous!), and spent the last Euro I would spend.
* That's a razor sound. It came with a head shaving action.
I got to the hostel at about 11am and wasn't able to check in till 3pm, so I left my bags and wandered around a bit. After getting some lunch/breakfast, sussing out where the hell I was (the red light district), checking in and having a shower I still had hours to kill before Nick would get there, so I picked up a litre of white from the supermache. There were a bunch of kids in black hoodies and eyeliner lining up in front of a music venue, so I went and asked who was playing: Wednesday 13, who is the singer from Murderdolls. I was told the music is like Motley Crüe meets Misfits. I hate both of them, but I decided I'd come back later and try to get into the gig.
I wandered around more and drank my wine. Eventually some guy asked me if I speak English, and would I like to buy some cigarettes. He was Polish, and he and his friend had driven from Warsaw to Paris with many cartons of cigarettes to fund their trip, for the duration of which they would sleep in their car. I bought a carton and we chatted. They offered me some of their wine, but I had my own... it was running out, though, so I went and bought another litre. I hung out with those guys for a bunch of hours chatting, while one of them called out at passing femmes "Ey, bella! Caio bella! Siete bei, sonno con me! ... "
Eventually Nick arrived, and I told him to come meet me and the Polish dudes. He brought a kiwi (who I'd met at the hostel) and a russian dude with him. I made the kiwi go buy me a third litre of wine. We hung out in the street like that for a while longer (my memory's getting hazy here) before I remembered at about 10 that I wanted to go see that gig. It was a couple of minutes walk away, so we went there, expecting to be able to get in and maybe catch the end of the support act.
When we got there the gig had finished and everyone was out the front. I knew I wanted my mohawk redone, and that one of the punks there would have clippers, and I went around the crowd shouting at people "Parlez-vous anglais? Someone shave my head! vvvvvvv*" After a little while, Nick said he and the russian and the kiwi wanted to move on cos they were cold, but I politely asked him to wait a little longer, and please step aside so that I might ask the people behind him (who I'd probably already asked, because there weren't that many people there).
None of them had one, or at least none of them were willing to take a drunk Australian guy back to their house to shave his head.
Nick had gotten sick of me and left, so I talked to the people some more. I was chatting to some some really cute goth chick (at least, I think she was really cute... like I said, my memory's a little hazy), and I bought her a rose off one of those guys and made out with her for a few seconds before getting distracted: The band was hanging out as well, between their bus and the venue: Wednesday himself was lapping up the attention of the girls in black, and the drummer was there. I formulated a plan to get on the bus with them a catch a ride to Brussels. Step One: I approached the drummer and told him that I thought the show was great and his playing occasionally reminded me of Chris Pennie from Dillinger Escape Plan. He laughed, but I kept a straight face, and I was his friend after that.
So, we hung out a bit. Wednesday and the drummer and some groupies and I went to McD's and got on the bus and sat around. The band disappeared upstairs and a bunch of us were kicked off the bus, and I figured that was the end of my night. I turned around and leaned back inside to say something and balanced on a bench and accidentally knocked over a bottle. That inspired me to knock everything else off the bench and shout "You something fucking blah blah. You guys are gonna be supporting me one day! Blah blah blah..." Then I left, and started walking back towards the hostel. But the drummer ran up behind me and was like "Hey man, chill, I like you. I just wanna go fuck these groupies for twenty minutes then we'll hang out."
That night lasted a few more hours, but I had a joint and don't remember much of it. Suffice to say I didn't get on the bus and go to Brussels, where I would have been stranded with a shitty horror punk band.
The next day I was in no state to go see the city with Nick. The Eiffel Tower's lame anyway. It would have been cool to see the Arch de Triumph, though.
The day after that I went to catch my train to London (and had to pay €70 even with my Eurail pass... it would have been €200 without it... outrageous!), and spent the last Euro I would spend.
* That's a razor sound. It came with a head shaving action.
posted by Nick Tresco at 2:12 PM
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