When we were in Paris a man boarded our car with a karaoke machine and performed a few songs. He didn’t look all that enthusiastic about performing the songs. Regan thought that he must have lost a bet and that was why he was doing it. This got me thinking. If I lived in a city with a subway I would totally be making bets with the wager of performing karaoke on the subway. I’ve already picked out what Regan’s song would be, Madonna’s Like A Prayer, in full costume and all. I told her that making out with Britney Spears was optional but highly encouraged;-)

If you go to get on the Metro and most of the cars are full except for one, first check to see if a bum is occupying that car. If a bum is indeed occupying the car simply avoid the car and squeeze your way onto one of the crowed cars. If you are unlucky, like Regan and I were, to board the nearly empty car without noticing the bum, or not knowing to check for a bum, as was the case was for us, then you will be bombard with the foulest smell that you have ever smelt. The smell was so foul that the poor girl that boarded with us eyes’ went wide as the doors to the car fully shut. She then started uncontrollably gagging and had to exit the car at the next stop and switch to a different car. I’m not sure what was going through Regan’s head but I did not want to offend the bum by moving on the next car. Neither of us were gagging so we stuck it out for the three stops that we were on the Metro.

1. Problems with job hunting an hour before take off.
2. Regan gets sick on landing.
3. It’s 2°C(35.6°F) instead of 10°C(50°F).
4. It’s raining.

On the upside, I did manage to navigate us from CDG to the hotel with out getting us lost.

I’m looking for a hotel Paris for two days after Regan and I return from London. Since this is the end of our stay I want it to be close to a metro station. I consult my arch nemesis’ book since he breaks down places to sleep by neighborhood. I’m looking at the map for the Marais neighborhood and notice this building labeled “Hôtel de Ville” near a Metro station. I start scanning the near by pages to find the entry for this supposed hotel. After looking at every hotel entry in the Marais neighborhood and not finding an entry for Hôtel de Ville, déjà vu sets in. Three years ago in France Joe, Justin, and I were planning a weekend road trip in the south of France. Joe and I were talking about finding a hotel for the three of us and I suggested Hôtel de Ville. Every town we been to so far had a Hôtel de Ville so I thought it was a good suggestion. Joe agrees that is a good idea and we should book the hotel later that day. Then Justin pipes up, which he rarely does, and when he does it usually is to correct me or make fun of me, and says that according to Rich Steves Hôtel de Ville is city hall. There you have it. The same mistake twice, both foiled and fooled by Rick Steves. DAMN YOU RICK STEVES!

I seem to remember after we found out that it was city hall that we planned to get some hookers and show up at Hôtel de Ville asking for a room. Then we made a rap song about it. I wish I could remember the lyrics…