The first part of this post is the fourth installment of several Blog Posts which document the no longer recent visit of Abbey’s parents: Due to the traumatizing and irritating nature of many of the events that transpired during their visit their names have been changed to protect the innocent. Abbey’s name was not changed as she knew good and well what she was getting herself into when she said “Yes” when I asked for her delicate hand in marriage (her “yes” was immediately followed by “this is weird!!”).
Abbey’s parents came to visit, and this is their story.
So we left off with doogie howser informing Abbey that she had la bronchite (brawn-SHEET). We took it easy for the rest of the day in the hopes that the next day (Monday) Abbey and I could return to Paris and I would be able to get some work done before my class-ridden Tuesday. HOWEVER, the French RER (train) workers decided that our vacation should be extended.
Greve is French for: you’re going to be incredibly inconvenienced by one or many disgruntled French person(s) today. That Monday, the French RER workers declared a Greve. We didn’t think it would be too bad, so Garcon and Centieme joined Abbey and I at the Mickeymouse metro to await a train to take us in to Paris. It was cold. It was windy. The Mickeymouse metro station is outside. (Bron)chite.
We waited for thirty minutes. We found seats. We waited for an hour. I gave Abbey my scarf (aren’t I a gentleman?). We waited 90 minutes. Garcon and Centieme went to lunch and told us to have a nice day in Paris and they would see us tomorrow. We waited two hours. Abbey and I did some math.
One out of five RER trains goes all the way out to the cold, unwelcoming, miserable Mickeymouse metro. Due to the French train/metro workers’ propensity to indulge in the frequent greve (the GM of the marriot put it best: “the French punish their government by punishing their neighbors”) it is required that SOME trains be running. This particular greve closed 9 out of 10 trains on this particular track. If 1 out of 10 trains is running and 1 out of 5 NORMALLY go all the way to Mickeymouse metro…Garcon and Centieme were quite surprised to see Abbey and I in their hotel room after their lunch – the lady at the front desk graciously gave us a key. Centieme and Garcon had enjoyed some wine at lunch and, by their account, communicated through grunts and hand gestures with their non-english speaking waiter. That night we watched one of the worst movies that I have ever seen called “A Mother’s Promise.” Please keep in mind that, in no particular order, my top five favorite movies are Cable Guy, Moulin Rouge, American Beauty, Drop Dead Fred, and Time Bandits. I emailed my professors – one of whom was thoroughly amused and the other of which told me “you are far too old to be spending that much time with a giant mouse” (I really do miss that professor) – letting them know that I would be missing class (for the first and only time that semester, mind you) and Garcon and I enjoyed a night of free wine courtesy of the Marriot while Abbey and Centieme shopped.
It’s four months later and I am still bitter about that particular greve.
On the plus side, it is the Chinese Year of the Tiger (fairly well-timed public apology, I must say) so there was a giant parade in Chinatown – the route of which happened to be a lap around our apartment. There were dragons, creepy-masked children (or little people), teenagers dressed up standing on top of floats but acting as though nothing was going on in order to maintain an outward appearance of flippancy that is all the rage these days, and people banging on drums. We met up with some friends, watched the parade, had silly string and confetti thrown upon us, ate Chinese food, and had a very pleasant afternoon. Then I came home and typed up 10 pages of notes and read two articles. Speaking of which, it is midterm week, so I must go read some more, go to bed, wake up, and lock myself in renowned, resplendent AUP library for the duration of the day.
Thanks for reading.
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