Weekend Catastrophe

So this is one of those stories that is going to sound really bad and scary when I tell it; I'm warning you so no one reads this, freaks out, and jumps on the next plane to Paris. It all worked out in the end, so there's no need to panic. It is also one of those stories that really sucked while it was actually happening, but at the same time I knew it would be a good story to tell after it was all over. So no panicking. Just read through to the end and try not to be scandalized, ok?
So this weekend my host-family all went to Bordeaux for a family wedding and left me in the apartment for all of Saturday and most of Sunday. They said it was fine if I invited some friends over to hang out, so Claire, Joan, and Sheila all came over on Saturday late afternoon/evening. We just sorta chilled, played cards; I talked with my Mom for a bit, then we decided to go out for dinner and maybe drinks later. Half-way to the Metro stop, I realize that I left my Metro pass back at the apartment. So Claire and I head back to get it by ourselves (because Joan and Sheila were terrified by the drunk guy who just keeled over in the middle of the sidewalk and started peeing everywhere). So we get back to the apartment and I go find my Metro pass, make a quick bathroom break, and head back out the door. This is one of those moments that sorta plays slow-motion in your head as you look back on it... I left my keys on the table just inside the door.

So while the front door wasn't locked, I couldn't get in without the key. Most doors here don't have actual handles on them; they have the keyhole. So you insert your key, turn, and push. So even if the deadbolt isn't engaged, you can't get in without the key. And my host family was gone for the weekend. My brain is yelling, "Did that SERIOUSLY just happen? SERIOUSLY?!" Yep. That just happened. I wonder if they let you sleep in the Metro...

Now I'm starting to panic a little, possibly hyperventilating. And Claire, being the cool cat she is, just stays completely calm. We go back to meet up with everybody at the Metro because there's really nothing to be done about it right now. So back at the Metro, Kyle has joined the group, and I place a couple of calls to people who might be able to help. I am unsuccessful. the voicemail on my host Mom's cell is full, and I can't get in touch with the program RA who is supposed to help in situations like these. So we just go ahead and get on the Metro to find a place for dinner (with a little help from Rick Steves). Rouge, who was eating with her family that night, had room if I needed somewhere to stay, and Kyle had an extra bed in his room if all else failed

After dinner, Rouge arrived and said I couldn't stay with her because someone else was already staying over. My crisis is temporarily put on hold when we discover that Rouge's family didn't give her dinner that night and she's starving. Emergency Carrefour stop! So we all regroup at Claire, Sheila, and Joan's house around 9:30 or 10pm. Kyle says it's totally cool if I sleep in his extra bed, and we decide to all go out to the Latin Quarter and bar-hop/see if we can get Suzannah to actually drink alcohol. We buy 3 or 4 bottles of wine and head over to the river bank and start playing "never have I ever" with newcomer Sharon.

So after a couple rounds of that, I'm pretty tipsy, which is a first for me. I drank maybe a glass and a half of the wine (like between a third and a fourth of the bottle), but I never drink so... tipsy. What happened next I'm not exactly sure, but somehow, Sheila ended up being dared to give her number to some French guys near us. And then (thanks mainly to Joan asking for a cigarette) they followed us around to different bars for like an hour or two. I was wildly uncomfortable with this situation, partly because I discovered I don't like being impaired, and partly because one guy started a conversation with my face and then ended up talking to my chest. Major pet-peeve of mine. Plus the guys were just really creepy.

At this point, it is a quarter to 2am, and the Metro closes down just after 2, so Claire, Kyle, Sharon and I decide to peace out. One guy kept trying to get Sharon to go home with him, Kyle and I were creeped out, and Claire really did not want to ride the bus home. So we hoof it to the closest metro, and make it on one of the last trains. When we make our transfer, we discover that the last train has left the station, and we're going to have to figure out some other way to get home (well not home for me, but to Kyle's where there was a bed). We leave the Metro station and try to figure out the bus situation, when a bus drives by that Kyle says will go where we need to go. We ride on the very crowded bus for like 40 minutes and finally reach the place. So I spent the night at Kyle's place in the extra bed (I know, scandalous).

In the morning, (it's Sunday now) I get going about 8:30 or 9am and decide after a stressful weekend like this one, I'm in dire need of some spiritual enlightenment and stuff. It's been about a month since I've been to Church and that's a really long time for me. So I pull out my handy Rick Steves book and look for protestant Sunday morning services. There's a Scottish service and the American Church of Paris (interdenominational, Protestant) that I could conceivably make. The American Church is closer, so I head that way. Well, apparently there was some sort of bicycle symposium/race that started about 2 minutes before I tried to cross the street over to the Metro. I stood there trying to cross the street for about 20 or 30 minutes while about 1500 people on bikes ride by, at a positively glacial pace. When I finally get to the Church, it's 11:25 and the service is nearly half over. I did make it for the Choral anthem and the Sermon, though, which is really the best part. It was nice, after a stressful weekend, to walk into a Church that smelled like home.

When I was a kid, I practically lived in my Dad's church. I spent most of my waking hours, in descending order, at school, at church, and at home. Before I was in middle school, I would ride the bus from my school to the middle school (which was right across from the Church) and walk across to my Dad's office. Generally my sister and I would find ways to entertain myself until Dad was finished with work. So you know how when you go on a trip somewhere, and you get back and open your suitcase and you can smell wherever you've been in your suitcase? Walking into some churches is like that for me. One of the main reasons I picked the church in Atlanta was because when I walked in, it smelled like home. Not all churches are like this; just the good ones. And when I walked into that church on Sunday in the middle of Paris, having lived through a weekend during which I really wanted my Mama and Daddy, that smell calmed me down and made me feel at home in a place I had never been, with people I had never met. Plus, that sanctuary was absolutely gorgeous!

After the service and a little chat with the minister-- he was a really nice guy-- I placed another call to my host mom to see when she'd be back. I made it home that afternoon with a great story and without any serious injuries. See? I told you there was a happy ending!