I'm tired. It's taken me ten hours to get here from London. Fucking crazy. But I'm in Paris. I work out the Metro and head to Cour St Emillion, where the hotel is. Where my friend is waiting. It's 9.30pm. I fucking made it. That's all I can think. I fucking made it to Paris. I fucking made it. Now, all I need is a good night sleep and I can start to enjoy myself.
I should know better.
It takes me about half an hour to get to the hotel, and just as I'm walking in the door, I hear a scream. There she is, my little Meka. Bouncing up and down and waving at me. We scream and hug and cry and kiss and laugh all at once. I'm surprised I don't snot or shit. Everything is happening and I'm dizzy as Hell.
C'mon, she cries, drop your bag upstairs, we're going out!
She takes me by the hand and I don't feel tired anymore, I don't feel anything. No, I mean I really don't feel anything.
Meka is so excited. I am so lucky she is here. I just grin as she talks. I don't know if I have the energy to make words happen out of mouth anyway. Doing doing doing, she bounces as she talks, "the Production Manager is taking us out to Buddha Bar! Some famous place or something. We just called a taxi, but I knew you would make it!" We get to the room, I literally throw my bag in, take one second to think of Train/Ferry/Snow/Train = Bed, and then I stick my fingers out from my hips and say, "yeeeeeah. let's fucking go out!"
Yeah, right, ok. Buddha Bar. There's 5 of us. Meka and her gay, Pat, David and Lisa, the Production Managers for the show Meka is working on here in Paris, and I. They're all amazing. They take me in their arms and we walk into Buddha Bar. I've heard about it. They make bad fucking chill out CDs, but the place itself is fucking amazing. Stairs lead down from the front reception area and overlook a huge dining room, a film set, James Bond, baby, with a gigantic Buddha statue at one end of the room. We are seated right in front of it. There are people everywhere. Everyone is hot. The place is red, black and dark wood. Music is blaring. Waiters are all around us. Hot girl, hot girl, hot guy, head spin, Matty, Matty, Joing, Joing, Joing, Sensation, Paris, French, what the FUCK is going on? Woooooooo!
Lisa looks at me and laughs. Welcome to Paris, Matty, she cries. And I laugh, we all laugh, we all drink and drink and drink and drink, and eat and drink and drink for hours. Champagne, White Wine, Red Wine, Sake, More Sake, More Wine, a tiny bit of Sushi, Drink, Drink, Drink.
A few hours in, Meka leans over and says, we might get to have Ham Sandwiches later...and all I can think is, Fucking Awesome. Long day. I'd actually really enjoy a Ham Sandwich. I can picture them. In the hotel on a clean plate. Nice Ham Sandwiches...awesome. Yum, yum, yum. Nom, nom, nom.
But that's not what she meant at all. And all of a sudden, it's London, all over. I may never sleep again. This was not the Paris I was looking for. This is Fun TM.
But there is so much more...