Which is why today's snow should have been the most awesome sight but instead, I was caught off guard and I was like, "What???" I had on the wrong boots for one thing. They have no grip and I no longer trust my sense of balance. Not one hundred percent. Maybe 80 percent. But not 100 percent. Before, I never thought about falling but after my fall on Rue du Cherche Midi in December (because of my slippery shoes), I know it is possible for me to fall and so having the wrong boots in snow is not something I think is very cute.
But the boots were not a problem. It was the busses. I could not believe that two flurries of snow rendered everything immobile in a city like Paris. Seriously? You are throwing us off the bus and turning around because of two flurries? Are you serious? And how are we to get to work? Oh, you expect me to take the metro? I have to get on the RER? Seriously??? The driver did not give a damn about my hysterics. He just wanted me off the bus so I got off, and stood there perplexed. How would I get to my destination on time knowing that my clients were such sticklers for punctuality? I don't like to be late with this client.
Behind me, I notice there is a metro station. The RER C. I hate the Metro. I may have mentioned that before. I have bad luck in the Metro. Strange shit happens in the metro. I don't like it at all. But there are those moments when you just have no choice. So I get on the RER and I get off at a stop that should have been easy to circumnavigate but instead, I looked around and recognized absolutely nothing. This is Pont Garigliano?? Where is this place?? Where am I?? Luckily, I see a navette, a little van. Normally, navettes are run by the city and the old people get on them but I figured, even if I am not technically old, since the weather is inclement, they will let me ride. So I flag the navette down and hop on.
The driver is alone in the navette but I only notice this afterwards, after he had closed the door. He asks me in French where I am going. I tell him where I am trying to do. He compliments my "jolie accent" and then he tells me the navette is a private van for Microsoft workers. He continues to drive but I do not know where he is going.
OMG. I want to get off this van NOW. He asks me where I am from. I tell him New York. Brooklyn. He tells me how jolie New York is but that he has never been there. He tells me he bought a 1970 Mustang from America but that it was delivered by boat and that he has never been to America.
All this time I am smiling but I am petrified. I want to get to where I am going but not in a private navette alone with some overly friendly man I don't know. He asks me again where to. "The Seine," I say. "If I get to the Seine, I can find my way."
We start talking about the architecture. I point to a building and tell him how beautiful it is. Small talk. Nervous AF. Scared. But he wasn't scary. Although, are they ever? His name is Pierre. He continues driving and asks me exactly where my final destination is and I tell him. I hope for the best. I continue the small talk and he continues the small talk. We talk about the French language and English and the chateaux and histoire. He tells me how proud he is of his history and he lectures me on various chateaux. I explain that I had wanted to go see the one in Chantilly yesterday but that my Navigo did not cover the commute. "Dommage," he said.
Make a long story short, it worked out. He dropped me off in front of where I was going, in the 16th arrondissement and we shook hands and said goodbye, no harm no foul.
But that was just bad. How could I have hopped into a van with a stranger like that before ascertaining where the fuck I was going??? That could have ended really, really badly. You know?
No comments:
Post a Comment