Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts

Wednesday, January 01, 2014

Paris impressions – Section A



Our European Trip + 96 Random Thoughts – Part 2
Paris impressions – Section A

1.     People are nice. “Sooosie Sooosie Soooososie you dumb American” with a scowl and a spit was what I expected the average Parisian would be like. Fortunately, I have been brought up to keep an open mind and what I found was a warm, friendly and oft-smiling people. Laughter was heard on every block. A simple “bonjour” in my wife’s high school French triggered an understanding and helpfulness, check that, an eagerness to help no matter where we were. Everywhere we went, except for the fighting lesbian bistro owners, people were happy to help and laugh. Maybe that's why the French still like Jerry Lewis, simple pratfalls and the contagiousness of laughter. The pace of life is one in where a person must stop, observe, laugh and experience every moment. They love when you attempt speaking French. I used to think ‘merci’ meant ‘thank you’. I was wrong. Merci means a cab driver can keep the change. That language lesson cost me about 20€.

Adelle takes us for a ride! We could stand up the whole time! Our first Parisian :)

2.     Things are expensive. The reason the French government subsidizes the people is because the French can't afford France. Citizenry are given vouchers to restaurants and cafes because they couldn't afford to stay open with such prices (I didn't make this up, I'm not that good.). Paris is a tourist city with lots of visiting Chinese, Vietnamese, Japanese and any other Asian nations people that rhyme with cheese. They seemingly have an infinite amount of cash. For the rest of us, a cappuccino is an expensive 8.50€ which is $12.73. Perrier is $5 a bottle and they fizz it right there. I saw multiple 67,000€ watches, and these dudes don't flinch. So just be forewarned and remember rule 1, it's worth every euro or franc, the French were a blast.



Seamus enjoys breakfast for a million franc...it was slightly less.

3.     Evenings are a touch formal. Khakis and a white shirt is low on the acceptable dress code. You can wear down filled hi-tops that are black, or a neon color, with nice clothes because that actually drops you down below the jeans line. It also makes you German. That being said, an evening in Paris must be a stylish one. Armani suits, custom tailored shirts and French cuffs with a woman or man up to 30 years your junior. Every outfit is perfectly tailored and many men wore no socks. Since I haven’t worn socks since 1980, I realize I have been Parisian all this time and didn't know it. I could get used to the look, but there is no way I can wear a scarf. Even in subzero weather it's like I'm allergic. Men shouldn't wear scarves with a sport coat, even if your name is Pierre or Fabio. Just no.
 
4.     French women are beautiful. Everything about them is soft and less than a size 6. Actually, everyone in Paris is skinny. I think they were nice to me because they were concerned I might sit on them and squash them into truffle oil. Back to the point, they can absolutely rock a skirt. Regardless of the length, pencil or pleated, skirt length was always just right. Young, old, in between, confused age, it didn't matter. I realized mademoiselles must have a class on this in third grade thru high school. Parisian women are confidently Franco fashion forward. Sophisticated, sexy, done to perfection. If a woman shows cleavage then Madame Chic won't show leg or vice-versa. Undergarments do not support but are really sexy (please, gravity is a law of nature, observing nature is unavoidable). I can't remember ever thinking soft and sexy but I have an idea now. Underwear serves no other purpose but to tease, and there must have been three lingerie stores per block. It was just goofy and impossible not to notice, plus I'm a guy, as if I would miss those window displays. This is why I have a cadre of friends who still pine for Catherine Deneuve.
Helmut Newton took this picture of guess who, but that is like every Parisian woman only different. I wish I took this picture, I also want to stay married so maybe not.
5.     Perfume is everywhere, so is BO and cigarettes. A guy was even perfuming a furniture store. He was squeezing the little gold, bulbous air pump from the short crystal bottle as perfume spritzed all over a nice distressed, tan, leather sofa. Maybe somebody farted in the distressed, tan, leather sofa, but it was fascinating to watch. Deodorant is not an item that is imported to France. In 17 seconds your olfactory senses were attacked by a smelly man, smoking a pack of Lucky Strikes, bathed in Channel #4. Then a quick respite, lingerie store, smelly woman, smoking a pack of Lucky Strikes, bathed in Channel #5.
6.     Ashtrays in restaurants! How retro. When was the last time you saw a real, amber glass octagon ashtray with four indentations for cigarettes? Totally forgot what that was like, and frankly, I don’t miss the smoking in restaurants. 
7.     Paris is all about looking good and the artsy. There is a sophistication to Paris that I have not seen in any other big city. The closest city like Paris in America is San Francisco. Art is at every turn. A statue here, a hot club jazz band there, a bunch of people painting and thankfully, no mimes. Even the street people had a Benetton green, white and blue striped sweater with a snappy pair of designer jeans.

8.     Paris is expensive...again. Paris IS fun but for crying out loud, does every meal have to start at 50€? Oui! 
Our 60 Euro Breakfast Buffet....Sacre Blu!
 9.     Awesome walking city, the best in the world. Simply the best big city for walking anywhere. Plus, you sure as hell aren't going to drive on the streets. Pure chaos at a green light would not begin to explain the pandemonium at any corner. The good thing is that it is near impossible not to find something of interest. The eco-cabana on the Seine the lock bridge, the Arc Du Collosus at the Louvre  It should also be noted that Paris is the only city that wasn't bombed in World War II. The scars are seen in every European city except Paris. Walking, we would see the Obelisk, the cannon made of the 300 Cannons from the battle of Osterriech with Napoleon as a Roman Emperor on top. We walked 17 miles in one day (Lex is still kind of pissed). 
A Chinese artist. Had a bunch of cool sculptures.

The Lock Bridge...See our lock?

The Cannon Monument

The Obelisk...I like saying that word, Ahhhhhh Behhhh Lissssssssk.

It is the land of the perpetual post card.

The Arc De Triomphe


  •  10.  Days start at 11 and go till whenever they feel like quitting. Dinner is typically at 8 and be prepared for a scrumptious meal to last 2 hours at a minimum. It takes some getting used to! I mean 8pm is when NCIS starts back home. 

Wednesday, August 28, 2013

The Death Of A Bachelor Life


WARNING: This is a short story more than a blog & it needs another edit but what the hell!

Not that bachelor life is as glamorous as its portrayed in movies or in real life 25 years later, but it is a "man phase" that is often fondly remembered and always exaggerated with each passing year of its death. Young Jimmy’s bachelor life would come to a crashing sudden end and wind up in the land of love and happiness (that gets exaggerated over time too). This is his cautionary tale.


It was a dark and stormy night. It really was on August 28, 1988. Then it cleared up, both metaphorically and in real life. Jimmy was about to meet the Love Goddess for a first date. He lived about 75 miles away in Indiana, Valparaiso to be exact. To the Love Goddess’ family it was as if he was traveling from the continent of Indiana. Jimmy’s chariot was loaded with two bread baskets full of cassette tapes. He would eventually let her choose the music (a tested suave pickup move), however Jimmy already made sure no matter what tape she chose it wouldn’t suck. So off he went in his gray Mustang hatchback with a manual gear shift and a kick ass (that could have been the brand) cassette stereo. The car was actually clean too – times were slow for the young bachelor, he had to hedge all his bets.
 
Raining like crazy Jimmy crossed the famed Skyway Bridge his father built, paid the 75 cent toll to enter passage into the great state of Chicago, Mayor Daley owned everything, let’s just be honest from the start. As he crossed the downtown he arrived to the village municipality of Glenview; A quaint suburb of Chicago, the caldron of dangerous frolicking.
 

Jimmy got out of the car a bit disheveled. He was wearing his go to uniform of white button down shirt, khaki pants, weejuns with no socks and a vintage London Fog black trench coat. This uniform had been the same since Delta Tau Delta, Kappa Chapter 1980, no need to change. The Love Goddess’ father, Doc, a white haired, Phil Donahue doppelganger with a better tan answered the door and let Jimmy into the chocolate brown carpeted home. There was the whole family, Craig the brother with the pepper gray hair style even the Grateful Dead rejected in 1976 and his wife. Marta the sister who had two kids daughter Jenna and her husband Dave. Finally Jimmy was introduced to the Silver Fox, because her hair was platinum white. The hair made sense after meeting the other two kids. After the cursory introductions the Love Goddess, who was resplendent in a white sweater that highlighted her tan face and the world’s most brilliant and alluring smile as her jet black hair tumbled down her back, just touching the top of her Kelly green Capri pants escorted Jimmy out the door.
 

The plan was to go to the Improv Institute on California in the great state of Chicago, enjoy some good comedy and then whatever. They got into the gray mustang chariot and Jimmy, knowing she lived with her parents, politely asked if she had a curfew. “You’re Greek and my parents don’t usually have one. This one time at an Ahepa party …..” No curfew is all Jimmy heard and they were on their way.
 

To where is still questionable to this day. See Jimmy had made a fatal miscalculation, he thought the Love Goddess would know how to get around in Chicago. Horrible assumption. After they had stopped at White Hen for Bartle & James Wine coolers and Hanover pretzels (BYOB dinner for the show), neither child knew how to get to the Institute. In this time before a Garmin GPS and iPhones a paper fiber map was the only way to navigate. Jimmy certainly didn’t have one because the Greek male psyche combined with the innate ability to always be right meant Jimmy could forgo the map AND blame it on the woman politely.
 

Yes, they were lost, but not all was lost. Not only had they finished the Bartle & James and pretzels, but the most amazing thing happened. Love Goddess picked out the Producers cassette tape and a favorite of his. (She didn’t suck, she passed the music test, we are off to a good start he thought). They talked, and talked, and talked for 150 minutes until Jimmy got tired of driving. At the 120 minute lost in Chicago mark, Jimmy said that they would stop and start the date there, wherever ‘there’ was.
 

Fortune smiled upon them when ‘there’ were the corners of Lincoln, Armitage and Halstead streets. An area populated with a bazillion of drunk single 25 year olds. Stop one was an Irish Pub called the Everleigh Club. The sign was white with green lettering and a few shamrocks, but most important they had a bathroom. Contemplating having a drink, the establishment was overcrowded so they pressed on till they got to Club 950, a simple brick building with black lights inside. They ventured in for a draft beer, got tired of listening to Depeche Mode (which 25 years later they are still playing, please get a grip) and left.
 

Eastward down Lincoln avenue they walked until they stumbled upon Esoterics, THE ‘80s bar that had more shoulder pads than the Chicago Bears. The place was a fire hazard due to all the hairspray and moose used by the patrons, but the music was fun so they danced inside of a huge chain link cage with tons of multicolored neon mixed with cigarette smoke pirouetted on the brown brick walls.  However pirouetting smoke up there nostrils was too much and it was time to move on to the next haven.
 

Jukebox Saturday Night, the sign actually had a front half red impala convertible protruding from the brick wall above the door. They walked in to the strains of Elvis, Richie Valens, the Big Bopper and all the rest. They twisted to the bar got a beer and twisted some more. Of course no one ever identified if the twist was the peppermint twist or some other confectionary twist.  Time for the young couple to push forward where they walked in to Wisefools , a Chicago staple for blues and folk which was dead for some reason, so a beer and time to move on.
 

As they walked westward they stopped and wondered if the magical night should end. Deep down Jimmy was thinking “No frickin’ way! The night is but a fetus!” but outwardly he feigned slight concern that it was now 3am-ish, should the evening be terminated? Fortunately the Love Goddess said “No” and the evening continued to Kingston Mines, another great Chicago Blues Bar.
 

Kingston Mines is a long rectangular building bisected down the middle the long way. This is so two bands can play one right after the other. Lonnie Brooks was on the left and Joanna Conner was on the right. Since there was seating on the right they sat down even though the band had not started and they ordered a beer. As the beers came Jimmy decided to impress the Love Goddess with his ability to name the Humbuckler Pick-ups on the Les Paul hollow body guitar with the custom Marshall Tube amp in the background gave it that really cool sound. Jimmy thought she was impressed and noticed she was actually falling asleep. Time to go.
 

At this point they went to the car but stopped at Stone Toad Pizza for a piece of pie and a bathroom break. It was time for a trek back to den of the Love Goddess. First Jimmy needed coffee and it was a strange detour into the Chicago at the Rock and Roll McDonalds. From there they were watching the sunrise over the concrete and glass pasture on the Edens expressway. Jimmy expressed only one regret that he was so tired that he wasn’t going to walk the Love Goddess to the door, only because he was bushed.
 

As they pulled up to the casa on Joy Lane, Jimmy quickly realized that Joy may not be residing on this lane. For there was Doc with a Titlest 7 iron in the front yard. Phil Donahue looked pissed. As they pulled into the driveway Jimmy realized he had to get out to protect the Love Goddess. As Jimmy exited his car the Doc was yelling “Do you always keep young ladies out this late?” punctuating every word with a 7 Iron tomahawk chop Again, deep down Jimmy is thinking “No, I don’t keep ladies out this late, I’m usually bedding them by now but I think this one is special.” Silence was the better option.
 

By the time Jimmy gets to the Love Goddess’ door out comes the Silver Fox closely trailed Marta, the old sister yelling at the Silver Fox not to yell so they don’t wake her baby. Almost at the door Jimmy turns around to leave and the Silver Fox says that he should call his mother. “As if” he thought, the Silver Fox then said to Doc he needs to call the police.
 

This is puzzling thought our hero, he had already planned to crash at the coolest aunt on the planet’s place on Katalpa. Quickly things started to align. See, at the precise moment the two star crossed kids were deciding to “party on”, her parents decided to “panic on”.
 

At 3am they decided to notify the police that their daughter was missing. Doc took a publicity shot of the Love Goddess to the police to report a missing person. While no transcript exists today it went something like this:
 

Doc: “Officer, I would like to report a missing person.”

Cop: “How long has she been gone?”

Doc: “She left around 7 last night.”

Cop: “It has to be 24 hours to make it a ‘missing person’. You look really distraught though, maybe I can help. What’s his name?”

Doc: “Jim, I don’t know his last name.”

Cop: Where’s he from?”

Doc: “Indiana, I don’t know what city.”

Cop: “Well, this isn’t easy, what kind of car does he drive?”

Doc: “I don’t know.”

Cop: “Sir, I really want to help but you know nothing about this man, if you’re so concerned about her, why did you let her go out with him in the first place?”

Doc: “I thought it would be okay, he’s one of us, you know Greek, officer.”

Cop: chuckles “How old is your daughter?”

Doc: “25”

Cop: “Sir, she will be home don’t worry.”


Simultaneously the Silver Fox recalled that she knew the priest at Jimmy’s church. So she called Fr. Steve, who perplexed, freely gave out the Jimmy’s home number. The phone rang and the Engineer answered, laughed, handed the phone to Sugar Cookie. Jimmy was on date with a girl so maybe he’s not gay he thought. So Jimmy’s mom, Sugar Cookie and the Silver Fox began there bout on the phone.


It should be mentioned that God created Greek mothers to be honey badgers protecting their young. The Greek Mother’s child is perfect, sinless and would never do anything wrong. The ensuing conversation was just that. No subtlety to start: “My child would never anything like that, what did your child do to mine?” “My child knows Chicago and I’m from there” “So am I!”
 

At this point the dueling mothers realize they attended the same church, with the Silver Fox playing the Organ for the Sugar Cookie and Engineers wedding. They also attended Amundsen High School and a host of other things. They went from adversaries to comrades in minutes.
 

As the dust settled, Jimmy enjoyed three pots of coffee with the Greek family while Love Goddess fell asleep at the table.
 

On his way out of “not as much Joy” Lane he knew his bachelor days were done and he was really tired.


(Copyright 2013 Jim Bratsakis)