[innerSpaceman]

Finally, we arrive at G.C. and Ralphie’s seedy hotel. But as we tramp through the lobby in a daze, the night manager calls out to us, “Eh, Monsieur, where do you think you are going?” I look back towards the front desk to see a rather scuzzy looking fellow with scraggly hair and bad teeth accosting us. Ralphie explains to this guy that his friends had been stranded in the city and were just coming up to his room for a few hours until the trains started running again in the morning. “Oh non, Monsieur, we can have none of that. If your friends are going to stay in ze room wiz you, zey will have to pay.” What, huh?

“But they’re not going to be sleeping here,” Ralphie implored, “they’re just going to sit up with us for a few hours until the trains are running.” “So sorry, monsieur,” the night clerk replied, “but you are not allowed to have guests in your room at all - not for anything longer than 15 minutes.” We were all pretty much taken aback by this. After the forced march I had just been taken on over the last hour and a half to get here, I was really in no mood for such nonsense. Can’t go up to their room?! What kind of a dive were our friends staying at? And what kind of scam was this place trying to pull on us?

Sure enough, the clerk continued, “Of course, if zey wish to stay until morning, we have a vacancy or two, and they must rent their own room.” Well, we had walked all this way; it was the middle of the night; and we had no place else to go. Our choice, it seems, was clear. “No Way,” I said to the night clerk, and proceeded to get into a bit of an argument with him. Not wanting to cause too much trouble for the Cricket and Ralphie, however, I did not let things get too out of hand. Once it was clear that the petty night manager was not going to budge, I consulted with Zapppop for a quick moment - and we decided to blow the place off.

So we spilled back out onto the street and, um, hey, oh yeah - it’s the middle of the night and we’ve got nowhere to go. Ralphie and Gemini Cricket sheepishly followed us outside. Clearly, they were mortified. Here they were simply trying to show us the same courtesy that we had shown them the previous evening, and not only were they stymied in their attempts at a good deed - but the very friends they were trying to help were now thrown out onto the street to fend for themselves on the dangerous alleys of Paris. Penniless and in peril.

Well, maybe not in actual peril. (Though I really did not like the neighborhood we found ourselves stuck in at what o’clock ayem.) But we were penniless - - between us, Zappp and I had about 5 euros. So the first order of business was to find an ATM. Which we did. But it would not dispense money in the middle of the night. And neither would the next one we found. Gemini Cricket was feeling so bad at this point that he gave us 20 euros. I suppose I could have tried to ease his conscience, assure him that we were going to be ok, that sort of thing - - but I was still too perturbed by the whole situation to let either G.C. or Ralphie off the hook quite yet.


The two of them suggested that the two of us find a taxi to take us back out to Disneyland. Somehow, I didn’t imagine that two Yanks like us with a limited command of the language and zero knowledge of the lay of the land were likely to get a fair shake on a 40 kilometer cab ride at this hour. Not that I had any better ideas. Other than, well, just spending the night out on the streets. And what did Zapppop think of that? Well, he wasn’t exactly brimming with ideas either. More like, hmmm, seething with anger. Maybe that’s too strong a word (I think I have seen Zapp angry like twice), but, well, he definitely seemed like he was in a very bad mood. And I’m sure it wasn’t directed at either Ralphie or G.C. No, in Zapp’s eyes, I was the architect of this particular disaster.

So we were going to, um, wander the streets of Paris until daybreak. That was my big plan.

And the first part of the plan was to get out of this scurvy neighborhood and back to a, hmmm, more comforting part of town. Ralphie pressed his map of Paris on us, and then he and Gemini Cricket, wishing us the best of luck, returned to their half-star hotel.

So ... there we were. Middle of nowhere, middle of the night. In a foreign country. Just me and Zapp, alone in the world. We headed north, back towards the Seine and the areas of town that we knew. There were very few other people on the streets, and the characters we did see were of the slightly unsavory sort. But before long we made it to the Boule Mich, um, that’s the Boulevard St-Michel, the main thoroughfare that cuts through the Latin Quarter. Things were less dicey from then on, cause there were plenty of people on the boulevard, even at that late hour. Not the kind of people you’d necessarily like to get to know, but people.

We stumbled on into the night, weary and bedraggled, ever north toward the Seine and safety. Of course, it was just last week when we saw someone get thrown into the Seine in a gang dispute, but it was the safest place I could think of. What I actually had in mind was the Place St-Michel, a beautiful plaza just south of the Seine. Its focal point is a tremendous and magnificent fountain, featuring sword-wielding avenging angels and winged dragons spouting water. It has been the heart of bohemian Paris for the past few centuries, and so I was sure that it would be populated around the clock - and would likely be an opportune place for us to hang out until the sun came up.

When we finally arrived at the Place St-Michel, we found it to be populated by a handful of sleeping homeless, and an equal number of nocturnal students, all assiduously scribbling in journals. It was silent as the grave, and just as discomforting. All that sleeping and writing ... it was so somnolent and creepy.

Stay here? Maybe not.


Just a little bit further then ... we drag ourselves to the very banks of the Seine to see if any better prospects would present themselves. And what should greet our bleary eyes but the stunning sanctuary of Notre-Dame! Illuminated in the darkness, the towering cathedral beckoned us as it had countless other downtrodden pilgrims through the ages.

The plaza in front of Notre-Dame is a pretty lively place, even in the middle of the night. There were about 30 people in the square, in small groups clustered here and there. One group of about 10 were a little too lively - a noisy gang of young ruffians, and there were more than a few sketchy characters under the trees at the edges of the square and in other dark corners. But we felt as if there were enough people to make the place suitably safe and that, well yeah, the spirit of the revered cathedral offered additional protection of its own.

We sat down on a stone bench and settled in for the night (or what was left of it). After all that walking, we finally had a chance to just sit and talk. It was a little after three, with no trains running till near six. It didn’t seem that we were going to get much sleep, so I tried to find out what, besides the obvious, may have been bothering zapppop. Well, you probably know where this is heading. After all, what business did I have in coming to Paris with no reliable way to get back to our hotel if, for instance, the fireworks started really late.

Yeah, I really owed Zapp an apology. Paris in Bastille Day was all my idea. He would have much rather stayed at Disneyland, where (according to his sources) they had Real Fireworks that one and only day of the year - - cause the farmer’s could not object. Now, he may never know if that tip was true, and yeah, it sucked that he had to walk miles and miles only to be put out on the streets, having to stay awake till daybreak, and then fly home to the States in the morning. But as I drifted off to sleep on the cold stone, I asked Zapppop if he, too, didn’t think that this crazy night was the best adventure of our whole vacation.


And then I fell asleep on the stone bench while poor zapppop kept watch though the rest of the night.



Wake Up, Etienne!

Huh, wherameye? Ahhh, Paris at Daybreak!

Many of the monuments and buildings were still lit as the dawn crept into the sky. And the dim, early light painted Paris’ ancient architecture as a fairytale city. I suppose it’s easy for me to say, since I did get a couple hours of sleep - but I was really glad to have spent the night at the gates to the Cathedral of Notre-Dame. To wake up in this storied place seemed such an unforgettable amazement to me, that it was (almost?) worth all the trouble of the night before.

And as we walked through the town towards the station, everything seemed inordinately charming and perfect. It was delightful to watch the homeless people awake and pack up their meager belongings, to pass by cafes and food vendors as they prepared to open for business, to see the city come to life as it has done for a million dawns through the endless centuries.