When people travel to Paris, France, they often come back with romantic stories about the Seine, the light, champagne and brie, oooh la la! Not me. Here are Some things I experienced and learned on a recent trip to Paris: 1) Don’t use French phrases you learned from Patti Labelle’s “Lady Marmalade,” they’ll get you into trouble with a horny French cowboy. 2) When going to strip clubs, you get what you pay for. 3) The Metro stops running sooner than you think. 4) Fighting in front of dildos is funny, even if you’re too mad to realize it.
One night, Ian, my husband, and I take the Metro to the Pigalle district with the idea we’ll check out the dancers at Moulin Rouge. After seeing the show’s price and thinking it might be too touristy anyway, we duck into a strip club a few doors down. Hey, we’ll save money and get to see a sexy Parisian strip show, we think. Well, we’re wrong. Nothing sexy about it! What we get is a discount show from the world’s worst stripper. She has to be the worst. Nobody could put this little effort into her job. Slouching, with a cigarette limply hanging from her lips, the pot-bellied stripper lethargically slides down a pole as though she has just been injected with a sleeping dart and is about to pass out. Then she crawls back up and stands there weaving back and forth. The audience, just as lethargic, doesn’t even have enough energy to boo or leave.
We get up and head out to wash our disgust away at an Irish Pub a few doors down. (I tell the other tales of the cowboy and dildos in a story in my book, “Craving Normal.”)
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