Thought I'd get a quick blog in while my brother is still sleeping, I forgot how much he sleeps. I didn't set an alarm and woke up naturally at 1pm, but I reckon he'd sleep until 4pm if I let him. I feel like we should get up and do something touristy though, he's never been to Paris before.
I've realised that having visitors stresses me out quite a lot- I worry that they're not having a good time and for Some Reason, everything goes wrong when I have guests. Last night we were supposed to go out for drinks with Olivia and Kayt, so I made us something to eat when I got home from work and tried to get ready as quickly as possible. It was a little bit awkward- he sat in the corridor with a packet of ham crisps and his book while I had a shower... Oh the joy of living in a chambre de bonne!
Olivia said her and Kayt were having a salad together, so when we were ready (my brother got really annoyed because I couldn't decide what to wear- I think getting ready for a night out with your teenage brother is the weirdest experience ever. Oh, sorry I'm not just going to throw a t-shirt and jeans on!) we got the metro to Kayt's with two bottles of cider I'd bought. I never drink cider in Paris but my brother has suddenly decided he doesn't like beer and you can't really offer a teenage boy a glass of chilled rose, can you?
I kind of regretted wearing my high heels, as to get to Kayt's the quickest route is to walk to the line 13, which is about ten minutes away, and then once you arrive at Kayt's you have to climb up five flights of stairs because she has no lift. Finally, we reached her floor, huffing and puffing, and I knocked on the door. I knocked on the door about ten times before realising there was definitely nobody home.
I rang Kayt.
"I'm outside your door but you're obviously not in, so where are you?"
"What? I'm at Olivia's."
Ah. Olivia had said she was eating with Kayt, she never actually specified where the two of them were eating. We nearly always eat at Kayt's so I'd assumed... Well, you know what they say about assuming things- Ass. You. Me. Etc.
"There's obviously been a misunderstanding." Kayt said in a wise voice.
"Of course there's been a misunderstanding!" I snapped, "I didn't go to the wrong place on purpose."
I was not happy. I hate it when plans are ruined, for no real reason. I could have easily asked Olivia where they were, but I didn't. Now we were on the wrong side of Paris, with two bottles of cider in a plastic bag and I was wearing high heels and bare legs. I was not dressed for a night out with my brother. If I'm going to wear heels and bare legs in Paris then I need to be with lots of other girls, also in heels and bare legs, so that I feel comfortable.
"Shall we come to Olivia's?" I asked.
"Well, the thing is babby duck," Olivia said (she always calls people 'babby duck' when is either trying to deliver bad news or when she senses someone is about to fly off the handle), "We're going to go out for drinks near Kayt's, so you may as well stay there. We're waiting for my friend Bernise to arrive as well, shall I call her and see how long she's going to be?"
Me and my brother sat down at the bus stop while I waited for Olivia to call me back. I didn't want to go half-way across Paris, just to come back again, but then I didn't want to go into a bar either. I was in that mood where I want to be with lots of people. After about ten minutes, I told my brother to crack open the cider.
Welcome to Paris, our kid. Let's drink cider at a bus stop.
I texted Mez, who was supposed to me meeting us out for drinks. She said she was still getting ready and I told her my predicament.
"We could go to work for a drink. Controversial." she texted.
Hmm. Until recently, I used to look at people who went into work for drinks and think 'Ha! What a gimp, have they not got any other friends?'
But it wasn't too far away, and I could show my brother where I worked. I decided to meet Mez at work for a drink and wait for Olivia to tell me the plan.
As soon as we got off the metro, I changed my mind. Mez wasn't wearing heels and I felt like a dickhead, going into work on my night off, all dressed up and with my little brother in tow. But by now there wasn't really any point in turning back.
We went in and one of the new waitresses, a French girl who I've discovered likes a lot of the same DJs as me, said "What are you doing here?" and I thought 'Shit. What am I doing here?'
I was not in a good mood at all. By this point it was 1.30am. We had one drink and then Olivia rang me, to say they were going to Chez Moune in South Pigalle. Finally, a plan. I dragged my brother to the metro, conscious that the last metro was very soon. We went to Charles de Gaulle to get the Line 2 to Pigalle, but by the time we go there the Line 2 had closed. I made a quick decision to get on the Line 1 to Concorde and see if the Line 12 was still running, I wasn't holding out much hope but I thought we could just get a taxi from Concorde and at least we would be a little bit closer.
We got on the metro and after two stops I realised we were going in the wrong direction. For once in my life, I'm going to say that perhaps this was not the fault of The Universe, that perhaps it was my fault we went in the wrong direction. (Although... I swear we went in the right direction. I think maybe there was a problem with the tracks and they made the metro go backwards. It's possible, ok?)
Swearing loudly, I dragged my brother off the metro. Maybe it was time to just call it a night. We got off at Porte Malliot and went to queue for a taxi at the 'taxi rank'- a bit of a joke in Paris because there are never any fucking Taxis at these things.
Olivia and Kayt rang me, drunkenly trying to persuade me to come to Chez Moune.
Kayt said "You've already given him a shit night, don't make it any worse by going home, just come!"
She was right, if we went home the night would be a complete and utter failure, so we waited for a taxi. But after ten minutes, I got fed up of waiting and decided we'd be better off getting a taxi on the main road, so we walked away from the taxi rank, towards the Arc de Triomphe. Not one taxi went past. (Ok, one went past, but I wasn't looking and we missed it.)
We walked all the way past the Arc de Triomphe and down the Champs Elysees. My feet were killing. I asked my brother if he thought we should just go home, considering we were so close.
"Let's see if we can get a taxi and if we don't get one by the time we get to yours, we'll just go home."
Sounded like a good plan to me, better than all the other fucking plans that had gone to shit that evening.
"I'm so sorry, " I told him, "It's just the plan went wrong."
"What plan?" he said, "You didn't have a plan."
Then it dawned on me that my idea of a plan is just 'Eat, go out when I'm ready, see what's happening.' Perhaps this is why so many of my 'plans' go wrong?
We walked all the way back to mine without seeing a taxi. By the time we got to my street it was nearly 3am. We probably could have found a taxi and I considered it, but I just thought it was The Universe's way of telling me to Go Home. You never know, maybe if I had gone out I would have been stabbed or something? Maybe it was Fate.
We got back to mine and both sat in bed, reading. By the way, in the end I didn't manage to find an airbed, I made a bed on the floor for him out of quilts and blankets. Well, one quilt and one blanket. It can't be too uncomfortable because he's still sleeping in it now.
Half-way through me writing this post, Olivia rang me and performed a hungover monologue, telling me that she feels awful and has false lashes hanging off her face. Last night they had a lock-in at Chez Moune- I'm so annoyed- people only have lock-ins when I'm not there- and she pulled one of the barmen. Along with Les Parigots, that's another place she'll now be too embarrassed to go to. She was lamenting all the gin, champagne and vodka they drank last night and the fact that they didn't get in until 7am. I'm really jealous and now frustrated all over again.
She also said, when I told her my worries about turning up to work on my night off, "Yeah if I was working I'd think, what the fuck? Why has she come in on her night off? Who does that?"
Thanks, babby duck.
I feel like the only way I can recuperate my dignity is by never going into work, ever again. At the moment I could happily never go back there again. Mez is a bad influence, I might start humming loudly whenever she sidles up and yells "Hey kid, whatya doing there?"
Oh my God, Kayt has just rang me. She's at Olivia's and she just told me what Olivia really did last night in Chez Moune. She really can never go back there. I asked Kayt to ask Olivia if I can allude to it in my blog and she said Olivia was being sick in her kitchen sink. I'm gonna take that as a yes.
Right. I think I might actually wake my brother up now. It's 3pm and my room is so hot, I just want to have a shower and get out of here. I'm really grumpy. Everyone keeps ringing me and telling me what a good time they had last night and how stupid I am. I know I should get ready, go out and get a coffee and some croissants to bring back for my brother, but I can't go out without a shower and I can't have a shower because it is the corner of the room and my brother is lying on the floor.