So there have been A LOT of firsts since I arrived in Paris...
- the first taxi ride form the airport with no idea about where I was going or if we were headed in the right direction
- the first time I went to the market for food when I arrived and ended up with noodles and butter because I was too nervous to buy anything else
- the first time the metro went on strike and I thought an angry mob would actually be taking over
- the first picnic and stroll through the Jardin du Luxembourg
- the first night out at a Parisian bar, trying to order a drink and wondering why on earth so many people still smoke here
- the first time I actually ordered in FRENCH at the bakery down the street and didn't wait until the little place was empty so no one would hear me to do it
- the first night out at a Paris Night Club and dancing until the sun came up and not realising it
- the first time a waiter was rude to me because of my awful franglais
- the first time I actually waited in line to go UP the Eifel Tower ... totally worth it at least once...
- the first ride on the back of a scooter, weaving in and out of traffic for dear life while laughing so hard it hurt
- the first year anniversary of me living in such a magnificent city
Well I can think of about a bazillion more firsts than just those but if I keep listing this post will be about a mile long and you will wonder why exactly I decided to write about my firsts in the first place (haha, get it ... in the first place!)... So here it is the latest first in a long line of them. Friday evening after celebrating the Partner In Crime's birthday with some friends at her apartment, three of us left to take the stroll to the metro and make our way back to our own homes for bed. Well after an evening of wine, food, and debating over which musicals had the best songs to sing too (this of course took place AFTER all the wine) I hadn't exactly been paying much attention to the time - which normally wouldn't be a problem BUT when it comes to the Metro... it is sort of an important piece of info to have when planning your transfers. Anyhoooooo ... we marched to the metro got on and began our journey home, my escorts departed after a few stops and I kept moseying down the line until I reached my station transfer... walking to the quai of the line 2 at a lovely stop we call Charles deGaulle Etoile, I noticed this normally bustling stop was dead as a door nail, and that's when the announcement came up - to make a long story short, the line 2 was closed and there was no hope of me getting a metro for the rest of my journey home. To top this off as I started the walk up to the exit, I noticed that all of the gates were closed and for a brief moment I was sure I was sleeping underground. That was until a nice, friendly (insert sarcasm here) RATP officer found me, and a few other stragglers, and so graciously walked us out to the only unlocked exit. Unfortunately I still wasn't home and the 35 minute walk ahead of me at almost 3AM was not sounding appealing, so instead I parked myself at a taxi stand and waited until my ride home approached. Yes - I made it home safe and sound and I actually laughed at myself for quite some time after realising how silly it was of me to think the metro was a good idea that late at night. BUT there was one other first, I discovered- thanks to my loud and rowdy, balding with a comb over taxi driver - a country radio station in Paris. Now to most this is not a big deal but growing up as a serious county girl this truly was the icing on my Friday night cake... especially because listening to a French broadcaster announce the Zac Brown Band and Gretchen Wilson is simply hysterical...
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