I went to Paris. It is an uncommonly common activity. It’s what I did there or what got done which I witnessed and participated in. I have been telling this story since I lived it and the adventure just seems to get more adventurous the more often I share it.
I was visiting Paris with my boyfriend of 2 years. He was working and I was touring. Thus, given a free room by his company, I was determined to stay as many days as I could in that beautiful city. His schedule, poor thing, working every weekday and a half day on most Saturdays, left me time to play and linger in museums and shop a little. Dinner out each night together and my sleeping in helped to keep us both happy. Well, I was happy, he was tired.
Our Friday night came and it was deemed necessary that he work Saturday. Bummer. But, he has a great spirit of adventure and understands that we can sleep later, next year some time or when he turns 80.
So, he came home to the hotel on Friday evening and I had already opened some lovely Cotes du Rhone. While we were sorting out the evening I asked who or where he thought we might find a party tonight. I admit I am a terrible instigator and have really no regard for the amount of sleep he gets when we are together. A terrible secret that I try to disguise by asking if he is too tired or if he just wants to stay in. But, this is Paris and ultimately we both want to have a great time. So he names a mutual acquaintance, now a friend, O, so very French. I say: ‘Call him now, let’s go out.’
We know O from our work. We both work on feature films. We are cogs in the big machine of film production. We met on a film, the same one I met O on in Morocco. O is a standard height swarthy Frenchman who is absolutely bonkers. He is straight up out of his mind.
Now there are a couple types of crazy folks in this world. The actually insane who are to be pitied and locked up and medicated and electro-shocked and that sort of thing. Then there are the kind with many phobias, hang ups, strange behaviors and fundamentally annoying qualities which may have them ending up counting lint balls or gold coins depending on their circumstances. There are a few more varieties but that is not to our purposes. O is that rare and random type of crazy. The one who is safe and dangerous all at the same time. Dig deeper and you may find the dark side but who wants to dig at all when the surface is glossy and action packed? O is that rare vintage that can and does have a life that is a party. He reminds me of Beatty in ‘Shampoo’, the glamorous parts, it does not hurt the analogy that he is, in fact, a hair stylist. Tres tres fantastique.
