So... about Paris.

Last weekend I spent time in Paris as I mentioned in my earlier update. As it's physically impossible for me to travel even to the bathroom without some kind of fuck-up I thought I'd share what went wrong. It began around noon on wednesday, the day of departure. One of my fellow traveller has a girlfriend (Siobhan) who most graciously had accepted to give 4 lazy and whiny bastards a ride to the airport. Technically at least one of those sad souls had some kind of leverage as he was in position to withhold schtupping(Kenny). How the rest of us got a ride I will never know. (Well yes I do know. Because Siobhan is nice and awesome).

I had chosen the place for the pickup strategically at a spot right around the corner from one of the vehically impaired(Simon), to which I could get with not too much of a hassle and with no consideration at all for the last free-loader(Samuel), because I'm a bastard. The two love birds were already inside the car so they got no saying in where the pickup should be either. Which when I think of it seems a little odd since they are after all the ones picking US up. Yeah well fuck logic, I got to decide.

As I stepped off the bus I got a phone call from Simon which after confused introductions amounted to

'Why are you not here?'

'I'm here all right, just not exactly where you happen to be'

'Yeah, well we're on the EAST side of the freeway because it's the ONLY place a car can stop'

'OKOK, I'll be there in a moment'

The pickup spot was on a bridge over the freeway and I had a distinct recollection that there was a parking slot about midway across the bridge but Simon sounded pretty certain. I didn't want to argue the point and then end up being wrong looking like a complete fool for trying to prove to someone that 'reality is wrong, reject and insert my version instead'.

I was greeted by Simon and his girlfriend Johanna, who is cool enough to not get her name in brackets. And we sat down discussing for a while. After a non-zero amount of time Kenny called me and asked where we were.

'We're on the east side of the road because here's the only place that you can park a car'

'How abouts this nice and dandy parking slot halfway across?'

'Simon, you're a retard.'

After throwing our bags in the trunk I moved to take my seat as shotgun. Oddly enough it was already occupied by the Kenster. I'm 6'7 and 308 pounds, Kenny is one hearty slap on the shoulder from dwarfism. Anyone with a slight sense for logistics would realize that shotgun should be me. I tried to argue my point by explaining that the net comfort in the car would be maximized if I sat in the front seat but Kenny was as unwavering as New Zealand bedrock.

We of course spent the entire trip to the airport complaining.

The flight went smoothly and we even picked up another fellow traveler along the way (Bertil).

I think flights are more or less the only thing that ever goes smoothly on my trips. Thinking that I'm traveling with Kenny who's Captain OCD, I assumed that we wouldn't have a problem finding our way around Paris and, most importantly, to the hotel. This time, however, Kenny had all of a sudden decided to take a more laid back approach to travelling. 'I have no idea' was not an answer I expected. I looked all over for ventriloquists, but I had to face the fact that I was in enemy territory without map, radar, GPS, a sense of direction, a polar star to fly by or competent allies.

Having anticipated that I might loose Kenny somewhere along the way, I had done SOME (capitals for emphasis) recon up front. The hotel offered a shuttle from CDG airport, but that sounded expensive so I didn't consider that a plan A when I was laying out the strategy, but it would serve as a contingency for the moment. This shuttle was obviously a figment of someones most vivid imagination, misinformation planted on us by enemy agents or an attempt to boost the hotel rating on the booking site.

I had also contacted 'our man on the inside' upfront to inquire about any suitable means of travel. In this movie this role is played (pretty badly) by Andreas, who had been vacationing in Paris for a couple of days already with his girlfriend.

'There's a train going from the airport, get off at Gare d' something something and then get lucky in the Metro'.

'Thanks buddy, now please drown in your own vomit!'

My handsome and firm behind was saved by Samuel who had up until now mostly served as a comic relief. Seems like a scraggly 'goggle maps'-printout and a bit of french was all that he needed to turn a desperate situation into a decisive victory.

On the third day the four inhabitants in our room had split up. Not a bad idea per se, but for the fact that we had just one key. A key-key you know the good old fashioned kind that's a lump of metal attached to a larger lump of metal so that the former lump of metal won't get lost. Key cards are obviously for the weak and simpleminded. This key we'd leave at the front desk whenever we left the hotel and then whoever got back first got the key back. This way the key could theoretically only be in two places, either in our room or at the front desk. No problem, right? Cue Simon 'the fuck-uper of perfectly normal situations' Englund.

Simon had taken out the key from the front desk to let himself in, taking the key with him into the hotel room, and promptly fallen asleep. Now this wouldn't be a problem but for the fact that Simon is close to unwakeable by earthly means. As in that Charlie Sheen is close to having an addiction problem. He slept through first 15 minutes of knocking by one of the other inhabitants in the room and then 15 minutes of my knocking.

Eventually I somewhat embarassingly made my way down to the front desk to ask for a spare key. It's something programmed in our Swedish genes, we hate to be a bother. We don't want to cause anyone extra work. But what had to be done had to be done. I want to sleep in the bed that I paid for damnit. No Sleeping beauty would take that from me, no matter how much I have to bother the clerk at the front desk.

'Ehh, do you perhaps have a spare key to our room, maybe, if it's not too much trouble, kind sir, please?'

'No, I already gave the key to your friend. He's upstairs'

'Yes I know he's upstairs the problem is he seems to have fallen asleep with the key in the room'

'Maybe you can knock?'

'GEE! Why didn't I think of that? Knocking!!' I didn't say to him, instead opting for the slightly more diplomatic. 'I've already knocked for 15 minutes', showing my knuckles, hoping that some kind of blemish would materialize to underline how much I had knocked. There was a slight pause and I thought I'd liven up the awkward situation a little with 'I've ran out of knock'

The clerk looked very confused at me and didn't find my witticism at all funny.

'Ran out of knock?'

'Never mind, just give me the spare so I can let myself in and proceed to beat my friend bug-eyed.'

'Bug-ey....'

'KEY!!!'

Eventually we came to an understanding and he was very helpful when the language barriers had been cleared away. He presented me with a key chain roughly the size of Coventry. Of course these keys were unmarked so not unsavory individuals could loot out the entire hotel if they got a hold of the keys. After about another 25 minutes of trying keys I found the right one and proceeded to lay down the smack on Simon. Johanna, if you ever wonder why Simon has a knuckle-shaped impression on his right thigh...

It's the unexpected things in life that makes it worth living. In retrospect you almost always have more fun when things don't go as planned. The rest of the trip was however very enjoyable even though there was very little in the way of unplanned events.

This will be all for now.