Young Americans in Paris Part V
Young Americans in Paris Part V
I sat down over dinner and ordered a nice bottle of wine as my clothes were so dirty they practically were their own living entity . I ordered the steak expecting it to be completely raw but I was pleasantly surprised it was only pink. It had a very sweet taste to it but coupled with the wine I had no trouble getting it down. I was rather content Stephan would be putting Carol into cabs all night long trying to find the right hotel. That is if Carol was even still alive otherwise he would be searching for me in hotels all over Paris in which I was not registered. I had been smart and registered the room in Carol’s name. So I was ravenous. Nothing like victory to make you hungry. But it wasn’t victory yet. I had only delayed him and I really hadn’t tapped into his cash to hard. But safe for the night worked for me. And I thought I not only should have ripped his telephone number up but I should saddle Stephan with Carol’s outrageous drunken behavior in Paris for good. Most certainly she would act out and I wouldn’t even have to call the police on them. Someone else would do it for me. I could be rid of both of them and then finally see the city of light. I had traveled so far, been through so much and all I wanted was a clean pair of clothes and to visit all the attractions of Paris. I decided then and there that if I could not get Carol back from Stephan in three days I would never. In three days I was leaving for Nice with or without Carol and I was to the point the latter sounded better to me. As I finished my dinner, I complimented the chef to the waiter. It is always good to make friends in a foreign city when you are in a compromising situation. Besides I was certain the chef had knives which might come in handy if Stephan turned out to be dangerous. The chef came out and thanked me and I asked him how he made the meat so sweet. I thought perhaps they use brown sugar or a special marinated. And quite simply the chef told me that the horse came that way. And without flinching I told him the horse was wonderful and in that moment I knew I had adjusted.
I returned to my room in my filthy clothes. I saw a maid cart with what looked like a laundry bag. I grabbed the bag off the cart and took the clothes. They were filled with filthy men's clothes. But at least I would change into them and wash my clothes in the miniature sink next to the real toilet and I would have a clean set of clothes. I knew this would require me to stay in doors for at least one day as I couldn’t get caught with the stolen clothes. And I had every intention of returning the clothes after I washed my own. I just couldn’t stand to be so unclean. And it was the 1980(s) so a few missing clothes was a relatively small incident considering what was going on in those times.
I washed my clothes in that cute little child’s sink. It had a sprayer which made it idea for laundry. And then I hung them up over the shower rod. I lay in the bed in a small towel as I couldn’t bring myself to put on some man’s dirty clothes. So then I got up and washed those as well. I could return them to the room next door clean for free. My American guilt was weighing heavily on me.
I had a tactical advantages in this scenario. Stephan didn’t know the name of the hotel I was in. I was registered under Carol’s name. And Stephan was unlikely to make a big scene because he was already worried I would call the French authorities on him. There was no caller ID back in those days so he didn’t have my number. I could only call him and I might not be into that for a day or two. And I had all of Carol’s money and her passport. If she was still alive in Paris he would have to pay for her clothes, food and drinks the entire time. So the longer he had to keep her the better the odds were I would get her back if she was alive. He wasn’t going to be able to get her out of Paris without a passport.
And I had no intentions of going to the French police. I had already been taxed and left without clothes for one bad association. I had no intention of going to jail for having two. As I drifted to sleep I wondered why Stephan, a person claiming to be from Saudi Arabia, would worry about French authorities. Most certainly he could buy his way out of any trouble he would find in Paris. He certainly seemed rather connected. And just as I went to sleep I realized he too was an American and he didn’t have the home field advantage he initially led me to believe. And I longed to be a normal tourist enjoying all the sights of Paris like I had dreamed about for so many years.
Just then a bang came at the door. It was the woman manager of the hotel. I was in a towel but she let herself in anyways. In French she asked me where my friends was. I told her she was at the pharmacy and sick with traveler's revenge. The manager was rather suspicious of me but didn’t give me too bad of a time. She explained she expected to see my friend soon. I told her as soon as my friend was over her sickness and I smiled. The woman walked into the bathroom and noticed all the clothes hanging up on the shower rail. She told me in French that the hotel had a laundry service. She collected my things and took them. I explained I had already washed them in the little child’s sink next to the toilet. And that I need my clothes back as I had lost my luggage.
As the women left the room she said something to the effect of “Crazy American, BIDET!!.” And I though what is a BIDET? And then I thought crap I am having the hotel wash stolen clothes and I'm paying for it. France is truly ironic.
- Young Americans in Paris Part IV
A fictional story about two young American in Paris part IV.
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