Yes, This Is My Bizarre Life

Enter a bar with alone. It's been confirmed, there is cheap beer in Paris!! I buy a pint and go to the back of the bar where I told everyone to meet. I adjust my blue scarf - the token I told people to look for - and get out my moleskin to jot somethings down. I am happy to be here.

Of course there is a huge T.V. here and I am distracted by it. An ad for "I can't believe it's not butter" comes on and I laugh. The four men sitting across from me are definitely American and one comments to me.

"That's a bit of overkill, isn't it?"

"Yeah," I laugh.

They are looking for a jazz club and I happen to know which one they are talking about and so I give them directions, or I try to anyway. By now they've invited themselves to my table, and I think "Oh why the hell not".

Slowly, people in my party arrive. One, then two, then two more, then four. By eleven we are fourteen jammed around tiny tables competing vocally with the rowdy french group next to us. Texas, Canada, New York, Georgia, Pennsylvania, California and Turkey are all represented. Apparently my ad had been forwarded on to a couple people.

The bartender comes around with a flight of fruity shots, gratuis, and then when we comment how weak they are he brings another flight, this time of tequila. Meanwhile, these businessmen who've joined us are really having a good time and they've begun buying the rounds of drinks.

One of them decides that we should migrate.

"We should go to the Executive Lounge at our hotel. No one will be there, it will be great."

No one seems to have a problem with this idea, especially since they've just purchased a hundred Euro of alcohol to take with us. We pile twelve people into four cabs (the couple from Austin leaves to make another party) and head across town.

For a little while we are left to drink and party but soon the concierge comes up to tell us to leave. He explains that the clean on Sunday mornings and we need to go. Most of the party leaves to catch their respective trains but a few of us go upstairs to one of the guys rooms.

Well, you can imagine that's where I got to feeling a bit weird. We were two girls in a room of men who began to look a little lonely and after I had a giggling fit (randomly, for no reason) and someone tried to rub my shoulders I decided we should probably go. It is evident that everyone had had too much to drink at this point.

When I got home, I discovered that my keys had let themselves out of my purse and I could not get into my apartment. Briefly, I thought that I would have to walk around Paris until it was late enough to wake my host family (or else break the door) but I was able to get in the side door. Thank God. I thought quickly to call the bar and found that they were, indeed left there, and passed out.

And that is how I sewed up my weekend. Two hangovers later, I could stand a good nights sleep. I go in search of hangover food.