Paris, je t'aime... almost

Well, this is slowly turning into a blog about all my misfortunes, which, I'm sure has you cackling with glee if I was at all smug to you about this trip prior to leaving... which, let's face it, I probably was.

Where to start? Let's see, I was scheduled to leave Paris a night earlier than Dennis and Stacey, and figured that if I left at 1-ish that I would have plenty of time to cover the distance I had planned as well as take in Notre Dame - during Sunday Mass, no less. So all was going to plan, smooth and silky-like, until we got on the Metro, where I would go back to the hostel and load up my bike, and Dennis and Stacey would continue on to the Arc de Triomphe and all that jazz. We said our teary goodbyes and parted ways. No sooner had the train doors closed when I remembered that Stacey had been graciously carrying my camera around for me in her bag. Maintaining my ever unflappable calm, but knowing that the next 15 days would suck without pictures, I hopped the reverse train back to the station, hoping to meet up with them at the Arc.

And that's when shit went South...

You know how great minds think alike? Well Stacey and I are a couple of pretty great minds, and it didn't take long for her to realize the same thing as me. So, ever the solid friends, her and Dennis hopped the train back to the Hostel, hoping to get the camera to me before I packed up the bike and left. So, I wandered around a crowd of 50,000 people at the Arc, searching the haystack for a needle that didn't exist, while they waited for me at the Hostel.

Stacey discovers the camera in her bag.

Eventually we both gave up our collective searches, and while they packed my camera for me in my bag and left me a note before continuing on with their day of sightseeing, I returned to the Hostel to see if I could wait for them there.

Upon arriving, I saw the note and realized what had happened. But, seeing that it was coming on 6 o'clock at this point, I elected not to bother loading up the bike, as I definitely wouldn't be making my destination before dark. Having arranged this trip in such a way that I could be so flexible was paying off, and I took in some more sights around town, occasionally checking back at the Hostel to see if Dennis and Stacey had returned for a pre-supper nap.

Wait, did I say 'paying off'? Check that... I meant to say 'screwing me royal'.

You see, the hostel was booked full for the night, and Dennis and Stacy had moved from our triple room to a double. Now, as part of my perpetually single lifestyle within a circle of friends averaging 4-year-long relationships, I know when I'm the third wheel. And although I'm sure they didn't loath the time spent with me thus far, I could tell Stacey and Dennis could stand to have a night without me around. Therefore, crashing on their floor would just result in icy glares and a trip worth of resentment. So, much like I was supposed to be anyways, the solo portion of the trip had officially begun.


Not much sleep later, and I decided to make up for lost time by slamming out a dousy of a day on the French highway system. And that's how I come to be in the beautiful South of France in a little city called Bordeaux.