France Day 7 – Crazy Horse By Metro

*I’m on vacation, hopefully far away from a computer/paint brush/box/dirty apartment. So my blog is taking a vacation too. Back to June 2008, during my first trip to France with my shiny brand new passport and my shiny brand new French boyfriend. This was my first trip abroad and I”m surprised David didn’t dump me when we got home.

our hotel room is my favorite number, weird

  

 






  

Strange to think that I had such a nice relaxing time in Lyon I was sad to leave the countryside, and was not as excited as I thought I would be to go to Paris.

We kissed everyone good bye twice (right cheek first) and Regis dropped us off at the train station.


David booked the D-Zen car which is the quiet one for old folks. There’s no talking and it really is zen-like. The D-Zap is the party car for young people. Apparently I am getting old because I preferred the silence. 


Our hotel was adorable. It has a teeny tiny elevator, which only fits one person with a suitcase. The Metro is right across the street and there is a cafe below us that brings up coffee and croissants every morning.


I was sitting out in the hallway on the spiral stairs trying to get the wi-fi to work, and a cranky, weird American man comes out and tells me that he is living in the hotel while he waits to get his security deposit back from his apartment which is taking a long time, and then he’s moving back to California after living in France for twenty years. He was on his way to the lobby because that’s apparently the only place the wi-fi works.

He told me, “The French are morons. Nothing works right here.They have the technology, they just don’t use it.” And then SUPER SNOOTY he informs me, “Great hotel though. Usually only French people stay here”.

  

I gave up on connecting to internet and went back into our room and instead of throwing my laptop against the wall, which is what I REALLY want to do, I threw it on the bed as hard as I could and it bounced right off and landed on the floor and made a crack in the corner. Ouch…. poor laptop. But tossing it released all these pent up frustrations, and the realization that I am turning into a two year old is a wake up call, and I actually feel better. And I’m really glad David wasn’t there to witness it.

 
BULLSHIT
We had tickets to The Crazy Horse and I asked David how far away it was and he told me five minutes. So I put on my black high heels. What David didn’t tell me is that it’s five minutes by subway, which means tons of walking down down down stairs and then up up up. Thank god I brought miracle band-aids made especially for blisters. I put one on when we got back and it stayed put and I didn’t feel my blister the entire rest of the trip.
The Crazy Horse was fun. We were too tired to go out before it started, so we had champagne that is included in the ticket price for dinner while watching the show. 


The girls are almost all the exact same (perfect) size and symmetry down to their dime sized nipples. The lights actually put straight lines across them and heads, shoulders, knees and toes, everything matched. This isn’t normal stripping either. The things they do are crazy athletic and almost physically impossible. The light show on top of everything turns them into halograms and it was like they weren’t even real anymore, just computer graphics. It was beautiful. And David liked it too. Cause he’s into art and dance and stuff. Heh. 


A Japanese business man sitting alone next to us fell asleep in the middle of the show. He woke up and left and the waiter asked us if we wanted the rest of his mostly full bottle of champagne. We said yes. Who turns down free champagne?



*edit 2012 – As if traveling with a very unseasoned grumpy pants wasn’t bad enough, I forced David to listen to this song ten thousand times while we were in Paris


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