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Tit Twister

Paris Gardens

So much stupid shit happens to me when I travel that I thought I’d give the topic its own series. Here’s the first instalment, based on three idiotic situations I somehow found myself in, this past summer in Paris. I’ve decided to give the first its own entry because it’s in a disturbing category of itself.

It began with the nipple tweaker. Exiting the gates of the Louvre, my friend and I  were each approached by what I thought were clipboard carrying petitioners. The one blocking my path shoved his clipboard at me and started pointing. At the top of the page, I read that he was from the Deaf and Mute Association. I shook my head. It was my first day in Paris and I wasn’t prepared to donate to the first person asking for cash. In response, he shook his head back and desperately pointed at the spot for me to sign. I thought maybe it’s just a petition and he’s looking for signatures. So I signed it and tried to return the clipboard to him. He wouldn’t take it back and pointed to the spot for a donation amount. I said, “No,” trying to continue on my way, but he was still blocking me from moving. He licked his hand, then ran it all the way down my bare arm.

Trying to remain calm, I pushed the clipboard back at him and turned to brush past him. He grabbed my breast, held firm to my nipple and gave it a good tug as I walked away, mortified and violated.

I spent the next couple of hours listing all the things I should have done. Somehow my friend managed to ward her solicitor completely off. He took one look at her determined face and knew there was no use in trying to convince her. I get angry all over again just typing this. I should have throttled him, kicked him, screamed– something. I was so shocked, I did nothing.

Paris is crawling with these scammers. After you’ve run into 7 or 8 groups of them across the city, you realize they can’t all possibly be deaf and mute. Google it to learn more about these Romanian gypsies. That way if you ever find yourself in Paris, you’ll know to hold onto your money—although the dignity that was stolen from me was more valuable.

Stabbing on the Metro

Embarrassment also discovered my whereabouts my second day in Paris as I ventured out on a return visit to the Louvre on my own. Thiam couldn’t stand the crowds the first day and did not wish to experience them again. This time I managed to avoid the Tit Twister and wreaked my own kind of havoc on the metro back to the little studio apartment we rented in Montmartre.

   

I accidentally stabbed the one of the hottest guys in Paris. The train came to a sudden halt. Completely off kilter and in complete danger of the floor rapidly moving up to meet my face, instead of grabbing the pole, I missed and gouged the bicep of the guy sharing the pole with me. Despite my many awkward apologies, hottie wasn’t very forgiving. I had to avoid looking at the angry red mark on his arm while his friends glared at me all the way back to Place de Clichy. Of course we all got off there so I could have the added   humiliation of seeing him complain about his war wound all the way through the station.

Sacre Coeur

Since it’s taken me so long to update with the second ridiculous thing that happened to me while I was in Paris and since it’s almost been a year since my trip to France I’ll move right into the third thing…

Paris Potty Talk

Our friend Etera came to visit from Leone took us on a tour of the Latin Quarter where he went to school. After touring the Pantheon, we were going to end our day with a tour of the catacombs but sadly they had just closed. Instead we went for a drink at the café across the street. I had to visit la toilette. You wouldn’t think anything could happen there but calamity follows me everywhere. I pulled a strip of toilet paper off the roll and didn’t know what hit me. The galvanized steel dispenser came down with a bang, whacking me in the nose. It was like someone gave me a roundhouse punch from the next stall. Upon closer inspection, I could see that the thing was taped as you can see from the picture I took once I recovered from my smarting nose and stopped laughing hard enough.

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