Sunday, 18 December 2011

Un Bon Weekend

What have I done this weekend?

Is anyone really arsed?

I'm going to tell you anyway.

On Friday night me and Kayt went to another Parisian Party, only this time there was no cheese. It was a flat-warming party for Angélique, our French friend who we met through Anna when we went to Rebel Rave a few months ago (Anna is my chum who has since moved to Australia, in case you're struggling to keep up with all the girl's names I mention in this blog, for lack of any Gentleman Friends.)

In typical Bloody Rude British style we arrived four hours late, by which time most people had left, but the people who remained were really nice and we found out that everyone was going to Rex Club to see Paul Ritch, Daniel Stefanik and Okain. Erm... I won't lie I had never heard of any of these DJs, but I really like Rex Club A LOT- it's like Social Club without all the Pretentious Nobheads and there's always places to sit when you need a Disco Break (like a Disco Nap but instead of sleeping you sit on a sofa and tap your feet to the music.)

We were faced with two problems: one was that Kayt didn't have any I.D with her and the bouncers at Rex Club, like the bouncers at most Paris clubs, are really arsey about ID; the other problem was that I was wearing my One Drink Ankle Boots, the same boots that Amy called 'the most uncomfortable shoes in the world'. We came up with a cunning plan to get Kayt's ID- we would leave the party earlier than everyone else, get the metro as far as we could without changing lines and then get a taxi to Kayt's. We would get the taxi to wait outside Kayt's and then take us to Rex Club. As for the One Drink Ankle Boots, I was hoping that the nerve-numbingly large bottle of vodka we were drinking would soon get rid of that problem.

As soon as everyone started making moves to leave the party, me and Kayt dashed to the metro, but not before saying  a Proper Goodbye to Angélique, just in case we couldn't get in to Rex Club: I've only ever been to Rex Club when I've either pre-bought tickets or when Georgie has got me on Guest List; and I've always been relieved not to be part of the huge, snaking queue of people hoping to pay on the door...

Me and Kayt ran (well, I hobbled) to the metro, armed with a huge bottle of Diet Coke that was half-filled with vodka. We hoped it would keep us warm and also top up our alcohol levels so that we didn't have to enter Rex Club sober. As soon as sat down on the metro, we were heckled by a group of French girls who seemed to have terrorised the whole carriage into submission.- everybody wasbeing very quiet, trying to avoid eye contact with them. I was a bit on guard when they started yelling at us, until I realised they were just asking us what was in our bottle.

"Why are you drinking Diet Coke?" they yelled at us.

"It's got vodka in it!" I told them.

This prompted wo of them to stumble down the carriage with little plastic cups, asking if they could have some drink. I still wasn't sure if they were hard or not, so we gave them some. We got chatting and they were actually really nice girls, they were just very drunk and rowdy. I think everyone on the metro was being so weird because people in Paris don't feel comfortable around binge-drinking Youths on public transport. (People stare if you even dare to eat a packet of crisps on the metro, never mind downing half a bottle of vodka.)

The girls we'd given some drink to then wanted us to go and sit with them and have shots of tequila and as we had about fifteen metro stops to sit through, we decided it could be a fun way to pass the time. As we walked through the carriage all the Normal People looked at us coldly as if to say 'Oh, you're one of them are you?'

And I did feel like one of them! We drank shots of tequila with them (they even had little wedges of lime to suck on) and let them practice their broken English on us. By the time we reached our stop, we had swapped 'details' and promised to go on a night out together. I have no intention of ever contacting them, but at the time I was sure we would all become Lifelong Drinking Buddies.

After our eventful metro journey, we managed to get a taxi and it took us about five minutes to get to Kayt's. While she ran upstairs to get her passport, I chatted to the taxi driver about Angkor Wat and Angkor Thom after discovering he was Cambodian. We had a lovely chat, until he said I was rubbish for not being able to speak French after living here for over a year. Hmmmm.

We got to Rex Club at the same time as Angélique and her friends and to our relief, the queue wasn't that big. By this point we were feeling quite drunk and I didn't want to pass out before we even got in, so we gave the rest of our vodka to a homeless man, in the hope that it would keep him warm. At the time we were really pleased with ourselves for being such Good Samaritans, but after half an hour of queueing we kind of wished we had the vodka to drink- the queue was not moving.

I have never, ever queued so long to get into a club. After an hour I needed a wee so badly that I thought I was going to cry, but we didn't think we'd have time to nip across to the restaurant over the road. Luckily, we decided to risk it and I'm so glad we did, because when we got back from the restaurant the queue hadn't moved an inch.

It was quite an entertaining queue- we chatted to the people around us and met a man wearing half a wolf-head as a hat- but after waiting in the cold for an hour, I couldn't take it any more. Me and Kayt debated Fucking Off, because I couldn't see how we would ever get in, but you get to that point when you've queued for so long that you think it would be stupid to leave... Plus we were really, really in the mood for raving, so we decided to stay put...

...we eventually got in after TWO HOURS of queueing!


It was worth it. My shoes were crippling me so I took them off and held them in my hands as I danced... and I danced A LOT- I didn't even need any Disco Breaks. The only Shit Thing was that me and Kayt had completely run out of money by this point and I was so thirsty that I started retching, but Kayt saved the day by grabbing a random empty glass and filling it up with water from the toilets.

Hey! I never said I wasn't disgusting!

What a brilliant night. We left the club at about 6.30am and got the metro back to Kayt's. We had a cup of tea and watched that song from Flight of the Conchords before we went to bed. Do you know that song that goes 'Foo lafafa. Foo lafafafafa-aaa. Faaa-iii'? It's funny:

The next day I didn't have to do my au pair job for once, YEY, but I did have to work at the restaurant at 6pm. I thought an entire day would be enough time to get through my hangover, but I was tragically wrong. My hangover didn't kick in until just before it was time to go to work and I arrived at work looking like a very poorly sea elephant. If you don't know what one of those is, here:

I was absolutely dreading my seven hour shift, especially as I hardly ever work night shifts and I don't know what I'm doing....


Do you know what? It was fine. I was working with two French guys I've never worked with before who are really nice and because they are quite new they don't tell me what to do and one of them can't speak English so we spoke in French, which is what I rrrreally need to start doing if I want to look back on my time in France as anything more than a Massive Waste of Time.
At first it was quite slow and I just had to be a 'runner', which basically means floating around trying to look busy and occassionally going down to the kitchen and bringing plates up. The kitchen staff were being really nice to me because I told them I was going to dance on the tables for them at the end of my shift. I actually meant to say something entirely different , which is why I need to stop trying to speak French.  (Or maybe it means I should try a little harder?)

At 9pm we opened the downstairs bar and I had to be there all by myself. It was really busy and nobody would move out of my way. At point I was carrying a really heavy tray of drinks and loads of people were just stood there, ignoring my pleas of 'Excusez-moi! Excusez-moi!' and I got so angry that I kicked a man in his ankles. I jabbed another man really hard in the back and he nearly fell over. Not the most polite way to treat customers but honestly, there were so many people and they wouldn't FUCKING move out of my way.

I was supposed to finish at 1am but the manager asked me if I could stay 'a little bit longer' and I ended up staying until 3.30am. But for the last half an hour we were sat around chatting and having a drink and then the manager said she would give me a lift home. I got home just before 4am, but before I could crawl into bed, I had to charge my phone up to set my alarm. I plugged my charger into the wall, it made a loud POP and there were blue sparks and then everything went dark.

Right that's enough for tonight I need to go to bed, I'll finish this tomorrow.

Only seven days until Christmas!!

1 comment:

  1. 'Mark in Mayenne' I deleted your comment by accident, but in answer to your question- I know he was ill because I was the photographer and he was vomiting throughout the shoot.