Upon Gloria's sister's suggestion, I have decided to listen to some "happy and/or dance" music. Here's Friendly Fires song "Paris":
Funny thing about this song...it reminds me of the first and only time I have ever been mugged. In Paris. Of all places.
Now, I've lived in Chicago for over 3 years, and have spent countless nights traversing some shitty neighborhoods. You'd think prowling Humbolt Park while A) totally drunk, B) 18 years old, and C) White would have afforded many a criminal the opportunity to rob me. And mind you, I am not some big tough looking dude.
That being said I have never [knock on wood] been accosted on a street in Chicago. No. That special designation belongs to Avenue Montaigne, one of the most fashionable streets in the one of the most fashionable cities in the world.
Right after I graduated from high school, my father took my brother and I to Europe. First time there. London, Paris and Zurich. While I immensely enjoyed the former and latter, the city in the middle can fucking suck my BALLZ. I have never meet so many rude, uptight assholes. At the time I remember writing a postcard to a girl back home (how lame right?) and I described Paris as a "toilet and the fucking French can flush it all they want".
And this was before the getting mugged part of the story. A Swiss colleague of my Father's took us American boys out to a sweet Italian restaurant. While speeding around in this slick Peugeot I'm thinking "wow, this is a gorgeous city". After eating an amazing dinner, my father left my brother and I to our own devices.
Drunk on probably the best wine my liver will ever not enjoy, I was desperate for cigarettes. We left our fancy hotel around midnight for a stroll along the Champs-Elysees. Rounding a corner I was approached by a group of young black men who asked me various questions in French, that I obviously could not understand.
3 guys got behind me and started trying to go through my pockets. I brushed them off and brother and I started to walk away. Thinking we were in the clear I casually make a 45 degree look over my shoulder only to see the 3 guys and their 5 friends following us.
Before I knew it 8 guys have surrounded us and separated me from my brother. When one of them decided to plunge his fist behind my brother's ear I bolted free of the three dues holding me back. When I did that my face was faced with this little item:
Now, I've lived in Chicago for over 3 years, and have spent countless nights traversing some shitty neighborhoods. You'd think prowling Humbolt Park while A) totally drunk, B) 18 years old, and C) White would have afforded many a criminal the opportunity to rob me. And mind you, I am not some big tough looking dude.
That being said I have never [knock on wood] been accosted on a street in Chicago. No. That special designation belongs to Avenue Montaigne, one of the most fashionable streets in the one of the most fashionable cities in the world.
Right after I graduated from high school, my father took my brother and I to Europe. First time there. London, Paris and Zurich. While I immensely enjoyed the former and latter, the city in the middle can fucking suck my BALLZ. I have never meet so many rude, uptight assholes. At the time I remember writing a postcard to a girl back home (how lame right?) and I described Paris as a "toilet and the fucking French can flush it all they want".
And this was before the getting mugged part of the story. A Swiss colleague of my Father's took us American boys out to a sweet Italian restaurant. While speeding around in this slick Peugeot I'm thinking "wow, this is a gorgeous city". After eating an amazing dinner, my father left my brother and I to our own devices.
Drunk on probably the best wine my liver will ever not enjoy, I was desperate for cigarettes. We left our fancy hotel around midnight for a stroll along the Champs-Elysees. Rounding a corner I was approached by a group of young black men who asked me various questions in French, that I obviously could not understand.
3 guys got behind me and started trying to go through my pockets. I brushed them off and brother and I started to walk away. Thinking we were in the clear I casually make a 45 degree look over my shoulder only to see the 3 guys and their 5 friends following us.
Before I knew it 8 guys have surrounded us and separated me from my brother. When one of them decided to plunge his fist behind my brother's ear I bolted free of the three dues holding me back. When I did that my face was faced with this little item:
Right. A fucking gun. I thought I was going to be shot in the face. Instead of bullets though, it was full of Mace. Ugh. Ever been maced in the face before? It hurts. A lot. In fact, I would venture to say that I'd rather have been shot, but I digress.Somehow I pushed away the guys that were about to beat the shit out of my brother and we ran down Avenue Montaigne as fast as our American legs could carry us. Upon arriving back at our hotel, scared out of our fucking minds, the asshole desk clerk refused to open the front door for us, thinking we are some stupid hoodlums [thanks motherfucker]. Mind you I was practically blind at this point, and the Mace had found it way into my lungs, so I could barely breathe. No to be dramatic, but I really thought I was about to die.
And did said desk clerk express anything other than mild contempt for his American guests? No. God forbid he feel even a modicum of sympathy for other human beings in their time of need.
Fuck that city. I still love this song though...and would like it even better had it been titled "Zurich".
2 comments:
If you could understand what they were saying you would still dislike them. Even before the whole "Freedom Fries" garbage in the US, we (French-Canadians) couldn't stand them.
I remember when I was in Berlin, I roomed with 7 Parisians. Apart from one real hot guy, I just wanted to smack them all.
http://vodkaandcrackers.blogspot.com/2008/10/5-addictions.html
There's a challenge for you now!
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