Accidental Farce

My weekend was one of those that began with a pleasant sense of anticipation and adventure, only to turn into a unexpected battle with Cabin Fever, sprinkled with moments right out of a Marx Brothers film... Laughable yet frustrating moments of apparent idiocy... First of all, my friday night plans were rescheduled to Saturday night, leaving me free to conquer Paris on my own for the evening. I had found a jazz bar online that not only had no entrance fee, but was supposed to be in the home of an old dungeon and outfitted with a real guillotine... Who in their right mind wouldn't want to watch jazz with images of Marie Antoinette and revolutionary France flitting through your mind?! Let them eat cake! Or wotevs...

I arrived at Saint-Michel around 10pm, totally forgetting that this neighborhood on a Friday night would absolutely be akin to walking through Times Square... well, anytime... But once I made my way through the masses, I located the bar with relative ease. The upstairs was seemingly dead, so I took a risk and descended through a door in the back, assuming the music must be downstairs, which it was. I was aggressively asked what I wanted by a waitress and when I looked at her stupidly, having no idea what to say in response, she said in English "tell me"... It is one thing to ask stupid questions in English, but when forced in an unknown tongue, the sensation is yes, even stupider... Ultimately, I was put into a seat, given a menu, and ended up with a lackluster glass of white wine for more than I've spent on wine anywhere in France so far... Then the music started, which while definitely energetic and good, was not the jazz that I was anticipating. I tried to look around, and may have seen a secret passage behind the crowded audience, but after about 45 minutes of what I can only describe as 60s-esque funk slash maybe jazzy soul music-ish, I left, having never found my beloved guillotine. Never fear, I SHALL master this bar again in future... 

Oh! But let us not forget the icing on iconic M.A's cake... Taking the RER back to my apartment, I sat on the upper level as I prefer to do, and was reading something I had downloaded to my phone, when a swarm of obnoxious boys infiltrated the train car and of course, sought out the one blonde girl sitting by herself. Why on earth do men think I will find hideously drunken attempts to tell me I'm beautiful, though I've never spoken to you in my life and clearly look uninterested, appealing? If I am such a queenlike being, as the night's theme would suggest, I obviously have no time for such peasants...

Saturday came along, fully expecting evening plans that also somehow managed to crash and burn... My friend disappeared and I was left to my own devices once again. The next day I found out that he had lost his phone and was finally able to locate it at a friend's house, but had no way of notifying me before then. Another example of vaudevillian comedy in the age of technology... But even more ridiculous than that, I was finally introduced to the completely absurd antics of a newly acquainted neighbor on the floor of my building... I had actually already met her a week or two ago, she seemed nice, and I didn't think much of her until she began asking for "favors". In the course of that day, she asked to borrow my phone for a minute than asked me if she could have some of the bread that she saw me carrying into my room. In exchange, she gave me a tea light. Ok, fine... I am happy to help neighbors here and there, why not? 

Well, all was fine and dandy until Saturday night rolled along and she realized that I was staying in for the evening... First she came over to give me some old French magazines, so that I could practice reading French. How lovely and thoughtful! Then she came back to ask if I had anything to drink other than wine, noticing I had a glass of rosé with my dinner. Sure! Here is some orange juice! THEN she came back to ask if she could use my computer, just for a moment, because she needed to check something. Ok why not, I'm in the middle of eating, you saw me actually using my computer, but sure. This incident of course took more than one minute, during which time my food got cold, she was watching some lottery show on my computer, and before leaving she reminded me that I shouldn't eat too much food or I would get fat... Wait for it... She came back AGAIN to ask me what rosé is called in English, and to question me about my level of education and how I paid for it... Not done... The FINAL knock at the door was to tell me that it was her brother's birthday and she wanted me to call him pretending to be her because it would be funny... Rather than slap her in the face (in a thoroughly slapstick sort of way) as I admittedly wanted to do, I told her that I really wasn't feeling well and that's why I was staying home for the evening so I was sorry but really couldn't help her...

I admit, I really had few words for the experience. It felt like some terrible Seinfeld/Peter Sellers comedy. It's possible that she finally got the message with that last incident, but I am not at all sure. For the moment, I am still wary of footsteps heading toward my door, and highly considering some Marie Antoinette sort of security...