Apparently my body will not process jet lag normally. I woke early on Saturday, despite the alcohol fuelled evening with Rebecca and Rhian the night before. More on that epic meeting of minds later. Also, giant centaur testicles. Because what goes with fine dining like those? Jet lag confused eqrly mornings, that’s what! I started out an hour and a half early, but got to my friends on time.
I can’t remember the last time I was as excited as yesterday morning. So many of my far flung friends all at once! When I went to London in 2008, I was there more to go to London than to meet people. Yesterday, I got on the Metro to meet my friends.
I know that sounds silly, but I’ve now known some of these women and their families for more than three years. It’s one thing to know that you share values and interests with someone. It’s another to meet them face to face.
I was so excited on the Metro, I bounced a couple of tmes. The giant black man across from me laughed. I did my best to explain that I was going to meet my friends. We talked in trunkated French about it and he asked for my mobile number. I had to explain that as a Canadian, my mobile didn’t mesh with European technology, but I gave him my email and he gave me his mobile number anyway. I hope he’s not a stalker.
At the Gare Du Nord, I realized that I had no idea where my friends were. I had the name of the hotel, but not the adress. Fail. Usually,I map this stuff out. Did I think there would be a litte sign saying Go This Way?
I started walking, using the Paris Charm Offensive: smile at everyone, explain your French is bad, and ask. It works, but this time, it took a while to work. I sneezed 114 times in 5 minutes and popped an antihistamine, because somethng was causing me an allergy attack. I had to go back to the Gare Du Nord on a bus and try again, after flirting with a halal butcher and a dozen doormen, however.
At long last, I found a doorman who knew the hotel and he drew me a tiny cartoon direction: go over the bridge, and it is there. ok, greqt. I look for a bridge.
From then on, it was easy to find! Carey recognized my hair, althouigh a look in the miror confirlmed that dude should have sent me to the ER because I was supah puffy face. Luckily I caught up with Rebecca, who is a nurse, and knows what a histamine reaction looks like. By 10AM: With my friends, scored digits, got lost, had a histamine reaction. You know. Welcome to the weekend.