100% Perfect

I met both goals in Amsterdam and made my way to Paris without incident. I have, however, been charged with opening a kabab shop to make money should I move to Europe. Call Me Rafael and I took the bus, leaving Amsterdam around 10 PM and arriving in Paris just before 6 AM. Call Me Rafael’s friend would not be “retrieving” us until much later in the evening, so we put our luggage in a locker and enjoyed as much as Paris as two can after little to no sleep, pain au chocolat, a couple bottles of wine at the bistro cafe, and McDonald’s (oui, MickeyD at Pyrenees) to soak up the day’s adventures.

We were retrieved around midnight by two French men (one of whom, Maverick Midget King, worked with Call Me Rafael in Italy several years ago) and they took us to our secret hideaway in Angicourt (http://www.angicourt.fr), just North of Paris. Maverick Midget King speaks very little English and most of what he speaks he learned from Call Me Rafael. Upon arriving, he asked me, “Are you hungry?” “No, merci,” I replied. “You?” “No,” said Call Me Rafael. “Good. I don’t have anything for you. We shop tomorrow.”

We shopped ‘tomorrow’ and bought food for a barbecue with some of Maverick Midget King’s roommates (Patrick and ProRider) and friends. In addition to a delicious apple tart for dessert, we decided to build a fire in the barbecue and toast marshmallows, “American style.” Maverick Midget King and Rusty Rogue Rafael (his name was changed during a ‘cowboy’ adventure) were standing around the barbecue/fire pit when Maverick Midget King quipped, “Campfire is very nice. We are like homeless and will drink wine and fight over trolley.” It should be noted, because it is funny, that on one occasion we were meeting up with one of Maverik Midget King’s friends and, prior to meeting him, we were ‘forewarned,’ “His face is funny, it will make you laugh – but don’t laugh out loud, because that is rude. Sireus (serious).”

Rusty Rogue Rafael and I spent a lot of time teaching English (slang, of course) to Maverick Midget King while he taught French (proper) to us. When one of us would do well, even when that ‘one’ was Maverick Midget King himself, he would offer congratulations, “Ah, 100% perfect!” If I work on my language skills, Canal Jumper, Rusty Rogue Rafael and Maverick Midget King think I could easily handle working at a kebab shop. Maverick Midget King even has a sign I can use (he commandeered it from a shop in another town and we tied it to the front gate….no bites yet).

The day before Rusty Rogue Rafael (aka, Cheesycake….another pet name awarded by Maverick Midget King) headed home, we ventured into Paris again. This time, with Maverik Midget King. We drove to the train station in his girlfriend/car, Clio. Maverick Midget King advised me to “Lay low. No, really, lay low.” He had no back seat, so I had to lay low in the trunk. Clio only preferred two at a time and three is “strictly forbidden.” Maverick Midget King took us to one of his favorite secondhand shops, Hippy Market, and informed us we could find “2nd, 3rd, 4th hand-down, maybe even dead person.” We didn’t find a dead person, but we did find some overalls, “American style” for Maverick Midget King. Rusty Rogue Rafael expressed concerns about him buying and, subsequently, wearing overalls. “Oh, Cheesycake, you’re crazy, they’re 100% perfect.”

I spent the last day/night in Paris, solo, because Rusty Rogue Rafael had returned home and Maverik Midget King had to work, “I’m very busy, like Obama.” Although my hotel was near the airport, I decided to take the train into Paris and spend the day there – I loved it. I walked everywhere and took pictures of everything. I even took a few of me. As I was finishing my photo shoot in front of the Eiffel Tower, I noticed Tinkle Tower. This man sells Eiffel Towers that are of bling quality, however, he also pees in the shrubs, I got a picture mid photo shoot. So, if you buy a bling Tower in Paris, be warned: Tinkle Tower. Just before heading back to the hotel, I opted for a Parisian hot dog. If you are ever in Paris and want to attract men, grab a hot dog and eat it while sitting on a bus bench along Avenue des Champs-Elysees. Sure bet you will be approached. Not a sure bet you will be pleased by those who do the approaching.

The train back to the hotel was packed. There was a man in the corner of one of the main cars with a ‘blower’ in his mouth and an extra one in his rucksack. In his free hand, a large can of beer. There was no room to move on the train, so people were literally packed like sardines; except for Blower. Nobody wanted to be close to him. He kept blowing the device (like a loud horn) and then asking the crowd (while holding up the ‘new and/or gently used blower’), “Interested? Monsieur? No? Go fuck yourself.” This was typically followed by a deep laugh and a loud, stinky belch. Many of the people were irritated, many were entertained, and many appeared oblivious to his marketing. For me, it was a perfect ending to an incredible journey from Amsterdam to Paris. A journey, that was 100% perfect!