Sunday, January 23, 2011

the morning after

Every time I go to Paris fate is against me. Yall remember last time when I went to the wrong airport? This time I missed my flight and had to go a day later. (Thanks ryanair).

In hopes of ensuring I don't miss my flight again I showed up 2 hours early to the station (around 2 am). Nobody was outside so I went from hotel to hotel asking if I could wait in the lobby so I don't get raped/killed/freeze to death. Apparently it's illegal to let pretty young girls sit in hotel lobbies.

My last option was to ask the only open bar in the area, which happened to be a strip club.

I get to the door.

"Hey boys...can I come in?"
"No, only men."
"What if I am a man?"
"Are you sure? I see some girls in there."
"No unaccompanied females."
"What if I find someone to take me?"
"The garbage men."
"Sorry, ma'am."
"I'm all alone I need to wait 1 hour for the bus."
"Tough shit."
"You'll regret this; I'm a PR, could have brought in tons of business."
"What's PR?"

I felt like Mary & Joseph looking for shelture only I'm not a virgin.

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