Mondays are just as hard in Paris as anywhere else. But not today. I woke up feeling GOOD. Got a cup of coffee in me, put on a new silk blouse and my favorite high-waisted pencil skirt, black boots and strutted out the door. For the first time in over a month, I left my coat at home.
No way am I taking the tram outside my apartment to the metro like I’ve been doing every gray morning. It's a walking day! The breeze on my bare arms, the wind in my hair! The birds twittering in the trees! I'm almost there already! Maybe a little music to finish this jaunty stroll!
Scrolling through playlists on my iPod, I don't look where I'm stepping and land the heel of my right boot in dog shit.
I am gliding along the sidewalk. I am a figure-skater transplanted in the morning commute. My killer arabesque would have put Oksana Baiul to shame, granted my horrified face might have lost me points for expression. Arms outstretched, leg arched behind, sliding on poop towards the metro entrance. Gold Medal. Too bad the Star Spangled Banner isn't on my iPod.
MERDE ALORS!!!!
I took the bus home since it was such a nice day and I was in no hurry. Watching two babies in strollers make friends and start playing cache-cache (peekaboo), side by side in the crowded bus, I had to keep extinguishing my dopey smile to avoid stares.
Though as far as weirdness goes, I was in good company. Yikes.
The guy next to me fumbled his fingers across his lips, whispering manic things under his breath. A nutty professor-looking guy further up started a screaming match with a young passenger, which elevated until the bus driver played a chimey, automated announcement telling them to shut the hell up. Two ladies got on who I swear must have confused camembert with deodorant. Just another bus ride.
Remembering my graceful descent into the metro this morning, I had to laugh out loud. Who am I to judge, anyway?
Staring at babies and laughing to myself…I fit right in here.
No way am I taking the tram outside my apartment to the metro like I’ve been doing every gray morning. It's a walking day! The breeze on my bare arms, the wind in my hair! The birds twittering in the trees! I'm almost there already! Maybe a little music to finish this jaunty stroll!
Scrolling through playlists on my iPod, I don't look where I'm stepping and land the heel of my right boot in dog shit.
I am gliding along the sidewalk. I am a figure-skater transplanted in the morning commute. My killer arabesque would have put Oksana Baiul to shame, granted my horrified face might have lost me points for expression. Arms outstretched, leg arched behind, sliding on poop towards the metro entrance. Gold Medal. Too bad the Star Spangled Banner isn't on my iPod.
MERDE ALORS!!!!
I took the bus home since it was such a nice day and I was in no hurry. Watching two babies in strollers make friends and start playing cache-cache (peekaboo), side by side in the crowded bus, I had to keep extinguishing my dopey smile to avoid stares.
Though as far as weirdness goes, I was in good company. Yikes.
The guy next to me fumbled his fingers across his lips, whispering manic things under his breath. A nutty professor-looking guy further up started a screaming match with a young passenger, which elevated until the bus driver played a chimey, automated announcement telling them to shut the hell up. Two ladies got on who I swear must have confused camembert with deodorant. Just another bus ride.
Remembering my graceful descent into the metro this morning, I had to laugh out loud. Who am I to judge, anyway?
Staring at babies and laughing to myself…I fit right in here.
2 comments:
ahahaha. I'm glad you didn't fall and get the poop on your skirt, though!
you and me both, sister
Post a Comment