Happy Bastille Day!

[Gemini Cricket]

Bastille Day only reminds me of this. What a wonderful time.

[innerSpaceman]

Ah oui, quelle ce bon la quatorze a juillette (in pigeon, misspelled, grammatically incorrect french).

Thanks again to Gemini Cricket and Ralphie for a most terrifying and excellent adventure. Poor Isaac was a bit scared and very annoyed. He was 23 at the time and being turned out onto the mean streets of some sketchy Paris neighborhood at 2 in the morning with nowhere to go and having to find someplace to sleep on the streets when he was paying for a beautiful hotel suite some 50 miles away was not putting him in the best of moods.

But I believe he's come to regard it as a most fantastical coda to our time in Paris, as I always have ... even while it was happening (though, I was not above being a bit annoyed and frightened myself).


Still, now that Isaac and I have broken up ... I revel in the fact that we'll always have Paris ... and our Bastille Day adventure will never be forgotten by either of us.

[Gemini Cricket]

Originally Posted by innerSpaceman

I revel in the fact that we'll always have Paris ... and our Bastille Day adventure will never be forgotten by either of us.

I posted that because that's all I think of on Bastille Day. I didn't mean to send either of you to memory lane. I should have thought first. Sorry.

[innerSpaceman]

Nice link, G.C., to memory lane. Cut to the end ... and (for anyone who cares to know what we are talking about) ...




It was one of the longest fireworks display I have ever seen. So long, in fact, that it started on Bastille Day and ended on some other day. It was now 12:30 a.m. and - uh-oh - the Metro system runs only till 1:00 a.m. Anyone who doesn’t make in on a train in the next half an hour is going to be without a ride. And the last train out to Marne la Vallee leaves from a place pretty far from here at about 1:30. Yikes

We head to the nearest Metro station, but it is jammed. Okay, fine, maybe one a bit further away from the action. So off we go to the next station down the line. But it, too, is jam packed. Just a set of stairs filled with people heading down underground to a station literally overflowing with folks. In fact, the only movement on the stairs is from people pushing through the crowds to get back up - - the looks on their faces overcoming any language barrier - - Don’t Go Down There!!

The streets, too, are jammed with people. One hundred thousand men, women and children with nowhere to go. A great many of them are, like us, just going from Metro station to Metro station, hoping to get a break. Finally, we come to a station at the elevated portion of the line - this time with a crowd of people on the stairs leading up to the platform. While I was reluctant to be the “canary” and head underground to check things out at the subterranean stations, I had no problem with pushing through the crowd to get a look at the situation on the train platform above us. And just as I reached the top, a train pulled into the station. Inside the cars, people were literally plastered to the windows, flattened against every visible surface. When the train doors opened, no one got off - - and no one got on. The train was already packed so tight that no one could enter. I thought I had seen crowded Metro trains before (and crowded Subway trains and Bart trains and what you), but ohmygawd!

It was hopeless. After that train left the station, no more trains passed by. It was after one a.m. The Metro had shut down. Upwards of 98,000 people were stranded in the Invalides Quarter ... and Zapp and me - - well, we were stranded in Paris for the night.

At that point, we are reeeallly glad to have Gemini Cricket and Ralphie as our pals, cause what else would pals do for each other at this moment but (hopefully, hopefully) invite us to spend the night at their place. And of course, Ralphie and G.C. are such splendidly good guys that that’s exactly what they did. Happy that they could return the favor, they invited us to spend the night in their hotel room in the Latin Quarter. Hurray!

Now all we had to do was, um, get there.

Ugh, there was nothing for it but to walk. And walk and walk and walk some more. We had plenty of company, as thousands of people were also stuck with no way home but their two feet. And so we walked through St-German des Pres and through the Latin Quarter. All the while getting further and further away from the center of town. The crowds walking with us thinned and eventually disappeared. By two in the morning, we stopped passing cafes with customers and started passing cafes closing up shop. If there was any revelry and celebration going on overnight for Bastille Day in Paris, we had gotten too far away from civilization to notice. Mile after mile, kilometer after kilometer. After four days walking all over Disneyland, which was preceded by four days walking all over Paris, my legs were pretty much bloody stumps. This march was grueling and evil. Latin Quarter, my eye! We were way past the Latin Quarter and well into Montparnasse by now. If Ralphie and G.C. were under the impression that their hotel was in the Latin Quarter, they were woefully misinformed. In fact, the part of town that Ralphie and the Cricket were inexorably leading us into was kinda creepy and lonely and dank. Granted, it was the middle of the night - but I was not happy about where we seemed to be heading.

Just then, the unmistakable blare of Euro police sirens ripped through the night. And suddenly, a police cruiser zipped past us on the boulevard. And another, and another. And some more. And then a few more. Police car after police car - - a convoy of nearly 25 police vehicles streaming down the boulevard at 2:00 in the morning. What was it? Some big terrorist bust? Some horrible Princess Di-like disaster? We changed course and followed the convoy for a few blocks, but soon lost them. Our momentary excitement faded into fruitlessness, and all we had to show for it was a few extra blocks to walk.


continued in next post ... hey, the original mouseplanet story was like 30 pages ... this is the last page:

[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.

[Gemini Cricket]

The best part about that trip was definitely the trip to DLP (with great tour guides) and the wonderful Bastille Day fireworks.

Good memories.

[innerSpaceman]

And you say 'memory lane' as if it were unpleasant ...


Quite the contrary, I don't think I've ever derailed a thread so self-indulgently, but I enjoyed being reminded of my favorite Bastille Day ever, and reading what I wrote about it back then.

[wendybeth]

That's one of the more elegant derails I've encountered in recent memory- great story!

[sleepyjeff]

SIR PERCY WAS HERE

[Not Afraid]

We're finishing off our evening watching Le Tour after having a fine dinner of crepes at our favorite French restaurant. I'm stuffed.