Jeemie Bouffay à Paris!
After a very taxing few weeks I eventually received my student visa for France and now I am back in Paris! Of course when I arrived two weeks ago I was astonished at how bloody cold it was. When I got back to the apartment I turned on the heat, put on socks, a scarf, and a hat and crawled into bed while the Swede made me glögg, or swedish mulled wine usually enjoyed only around the holidays. Since then the weather has improved, or at least I’ve gotten used to the idea of autumn. However there were still a few summer activities I felt had to be done before I truly committed to fall. So for my birthday, in typically un-Parisian fashion, I dressed up like a parrot head and went to see Jimmy Buffett in concert! His presence made for the perfect adieu to Americana and summertime, at least for the time being.
Twice during the concert I was brutally reminded that it’s not just Parisians who are assholes in Paris, it’s tourists too. As I was wearing an enormous pink foam whale on my head (I know what you’re thinking “whale-head? it’s parrot-head dummy! But I had a big parrot on my dress to make up for it), I was bound to piss off somebody, and that somebody came in the form of a waspy middle aged housewife from Connecticut or New York or somewhere equally snotty who walked up to me and said “you’re blocking everyone’s view!” A simple “excuse me but my husband and I can’t see past your head, is there any chance you could step aside or take off your hat for a while?” would have been so graciously received. “Gladly!” I would say, instead I said “Oh..sorry” and kept on wagging my whale tail to the beachy tunes. After a few songs I decided I wanted to get a little closer to Monsieur Buffett so I took off my whale, walked past the lady and said “Madame, I will leave you in peace”. I thought it quite civil really.
Not two seconds later did we bump into the only other mean-spirited Jimmy Buffet fan in the world: a 40 something drunk redneck with a pony tail, 5 oclock shadow, and wife beater covered beer gut. As the Swede and I politely tried to slide past him he stuck out his arm and told us to “fuck off, you’re not getting in front of me and my woman”. I did think it somewhat sweet that he protected his woman’s view of the stage, since she wasn’t even 5 foot tall and could hardly see the stage, not that she was really paying attention to her surroundings from what I could tell. She just swayed back and forth with her crazy frizzled red hair and matching red face, presumably the product of years of boozing and bronzing. Where do people like this come from? The pan-handle? And if so, why in the world would they want to come to Paris? As Anders and I made a final attempt to step around the couple the redneck raised his elbow and forcefully knocked the Swede back, shouting “FUCK YOU ASSHOLE, BACK THE FUCK UP”. Can you believe it?? At a Jimmy Buffett concert for chrissakes! I mean, who can be that angry listening to songs about cheeseburgers, cocktails, and fishing. Apart from these two hateful creatures (the redneck and the wasp that is), the rest of the crowd was happily drunk on life and over-priced beer. The event was all around intoxicatingly jubilant; a suiting beginning to the 23rd year of my life!