Can I Tell You a Story?
by Mark Tronson, Tastemaker in Residence
can I tell you a story?
I am the only American male ever to fail - in Paris - on Valentine's Day
a few years ago I took my girlfriend to France for her ... ahem ... one of those monumental birthdays - we flew up to Paris from Nice on Valentine's Day - I had seen Parisian open air markets previously and wanted to surprise her with a beautifully prepared Valentine dinner after grocery shopping the day of ... renting a really cool apartment where I'd prepare a delightful ...
um - yeah, that didn't happen ...
we flew in by 8ish in the a.m. - thought I could grab the apartment by noonish -
um - yeah, that didn't happen ...
on arrival they said we could grab the keys around 5 pm - workable I thought - bee bopped around one of the coolest cities on earth until then and showed up at the Apartments in Paris lock box location - waited with approximately 41 other suckers until 6 pmish - paid for that "cool" Parisian apartment to a "not so French" looking guy who took our money and gave us our keys - we were on our way - relieved was I the day was winding down as my girlfriend had purchased new shoes the day before in Avignon and had "broken them in" on the streets of Paris - little did she know how the term "broken in" was going to haunt us...
so ... haven't been grocery shopping yet - turns out, much like us - the Parisian nights come much earlier in February than they had the last time I was in Paris in September - my shoe comfort challenged date was - let's say - struggling - we were finally heading down the streets of the most romantic city in the world to our apartment - heading to what I hoped was going to be a triumphant ...
um - yeah, that didn't happen ...
see, one of the problems with the internet is that things that look like they might be super cool - sometimes aren't - after the third detour around a "woman of the evenings" rather large and protruding breasts in the red light district of Paris we happened upon our apartment - my son and I were in Paris a couple of years previous and he and I wouldn't have stayed here - to be succinct - Pine Sol aroma's were rampant - I had my laptop and jumped on an Internet server called Sexie Sadie's - that's all I have to say about that - having abandoned any thought of romance I proceeded to rent a room at a Parisian hotel in the Eiffel Tower district - in complete salvage mode to be honest - having stayed in the area before I was confident it would be a pleasant end to the nightmare that was visiting upon us now ...
um - yeah, that didn't happen ...
see ... sometimes I become cheap at inopportune times - having just spent a disgustingly exorbitant amount of money on a unusable (using that term quite literally) apartment - I decided in pure hastiness that a cab ride across the city was out of the question financially - so thought - in my finite reasoning - a subway ride was more sensible - on a Friday night - at seven o'clock - in a city of a few million - during rush hour - it will all work out fine ...
um ... yeah, that didn't happen
the first train - completely full, - second, same thing - third, pretty empty - we jump on - exhausted we head for the interior seats - I know - seems obvious - a good decision - not so much - it kept filling up and up and up and by the time I realized we were two stops from our departure it was so packed we could barely move - my somewhat foot challenged (without the somewhat part) partner - whom I'd been coaxing out of her comfortable seat for some time was still 3 layers back from exit on arrival - being the good boyfriend I am it turns out I was in the front waiting for the doors to open - quickly jumping off - only to see her in complete panic mode - I'm confident if youtube had been recording you would have seen the following from my expressions: "there's no way she's getting off here" -"holy s--t, what now" and not so surprisingly - "at least I saved 16€ on cab fare" - (that's what I would call a Herb moment - my father's name is Herb - legendarily frugal) - luckily a couple of French men sensed our desperation and pushed her through the quickly closing doors in what I imagine to be the image of a birth canal scene (yes, I have 3 children - it was a different time then - imagination required - I'm 52 for Pete's sake - give me a break) - everything is going to be better now think I ...
um ... yeah that didn't happen
we undocked at a beautiful subway station - arriving fully intact with luggage and a good attitude we climbed the stairs to a beautiful if somewhat chilly February evening - a confident "I think we should go left" emanated from my lips - clearly trust was in the past in this relationship - she pulled over the stereotypical Frenchman on his bike with a baguette in the basket and he contradicted me - "damn Frenchmen" I thought - anyway ... we went right - I was still trying to save the day a bit so offered - "the cool thing about this part of the city at night is that when strolling along, the fully lit Eiffel Tower will just appear unexpectedly" - yep - finally got something right on this journey - within seconds a fully illuminated Eiffel was glowing above the Parisian skyline - all is right thought I ...
um ... yeah, that didn't happen
two more Frenchman offering advice with "iiss jus aroun' ze corner" to our hotel hunt and multiple trips around a restaurant serving unbelievably unctuous French cuisine with beautiful little French couples enjoying their "romantik" dinners while my girlfriend was trudging along with blisters on her feet while dragging her "duffle" pretty much doomed me - in desperation I literally drug a woman from a Pharmacia with the plea - "can you just point me in the right direction?" - she did - after running down the alley of her direction I screamed - "found it" - the next few moments dragging duffle and girlfriend to a beautiful hotel in one of the nicest arrondissments of Paris I thought - finally - "did it" ...
um ... yeah, that didn't happen
the little restaurant we'd been circling in our quest for hotel nirvana turned out to be the place we would enjoy the Valentine Parisian cuisine of our dreams - serendipitously the concierge of our hotel was buddies with the owner so he was able to secure a place for our dinner that evening without reservations on one of the busiest nights in the restaurant world - with a shoe change and a "merci beaucoup" to our newest best-est buddy we were off -
meal - fantastico!
atmosphere - romantik!
finally I'd done it!
with a long and arduous day behind us we could finally enjoy the romance of Paris ...
um ... yeah, that didn't happen
our server was a beautiful young Parisian woman - very competent and uber-friendly - my final act of the night was ordering an aged Armagnac - having been in France for 6 or 7 days I was clearly fluent in French so ordered a glass of that nectar in her language - I thought - turns out in hindsight I think I must of asked for her phone number or said I'd like to have croissants with her in the morning after having spent the night with her or I don't have any idea what I said - I do know we never saw her again - also, I never tasted the Armagnac - the maitre d' came over with our check and I paid - what I mostly remember...girlfriend ... clearly impressed - thus ends my romantic Valentine's Day in Paris
um ... yeah, that didn't happen
your pal,
mt