The musk in the air hung around longer than she did, no sooner had she slammed the door that the thought of escaping Paris became my resolve.
As I walked out of the bathroom I got a prudish look from the grey housekeeper she looked and turned in a sign of disgust. As I made it to my room I released a huge sigh, averting the daggers her eyes sent my way kept my breathing distracted.
This night I had been judged first by the Mexican bartender and now by this housekeeper or was guilt eating at me, either way getting out of Paris would remedy this situation I naively thought.
I got in my room and slid under the covers quietly as to not disturb my Asian companions.
I slept like a bear the action from the night before had surrendered me.
I woke up late, housekeeping was banging on the door and my nocturnal companions were nowhere to be found.
I must have sensed that the day would be long an complicated, I decided to take a long hot bath and ignored the rapping at the door.
Just the thought of slipping into this turn of the century cast iron claw foot tub while Adele 25 played in the background put me at ease.
In a small act of rebellion I would be an extra late check out.
After the fact I took note that the album had eleven songs and went on for forty eight minutes, I came out a bit wrinkled but I heard all eleven.
Long baths and dirty minds go hand and hand as if water and fresh scented soaps have some mysterious cleansing properties.
I dried myself with a thin terry cloth towel and instinctively as I had done for as long as I can remember made the sign of the cross as I perfumed my naked body.
Calvin's on, Adidas dark grey jogging pants and a crisp white Psycho Bunny shirt finished of with La Sportiva landing sneakers, this being my comfortable traveling outfit.
I took the elevator down and landed in the lobby. Just my luck the hotel receptionist and my nemesis grey housekeeper were engrossed in small talk, they both raised their heads and ran their eyes up and down in a disapproving fashion. But I was freshly showered and in a good state of mind so I ignored their snobbery.
I stepped on the sidewalks and with every westward step on Boulevard de Sébastopol I felt lighter. I hung a right on Rue de Rivoli and my mouth started to water, Angelina's signature hazelnut Mont Blanc pâtisserie would accelerate my much needed amnesia.
With every sweet bite I purged myself of sins committed.
While I was paying I waived to my friend Maurice he has a newspaper stand on the arcade right outside Angelina's, he hailed a cab for me.
I waved thanks to my friend and slipped into the cab, "Gare du Nord s'il vous plaît meseieurs."
Whether I'm arriving or departing from this station it's grandeur always makes me small in a wonderful way.
I exited the cab grabbed my bag and let myself be absorbed by this octopus of a stations tentacles.
Quickly I landed on the platform and as I stared at the rails below I said to myself in a calming manner "as soon as I sit it will all float away".
The train with its inherent power and its timely approach consumed the empty space and made hurried ants of us all.
The dance between the isles and the rustling of bags made us all school children minding our manners and then in a sudden jolt the train was off and we were all quiet companions.
My seat by the window facing away made my departure a departure.
As the train made distance I comforted myself and pulled my headphones from my pocket intent on writing what was on last nights wall.
As I started to type my phone rang it's intrusiveness pissed me off so I ignored it on principle.
Insistent bugger who ever it was they were getting under my skin.
Keeping up with train etiquette I got up and walked passed the bathroom to the gangway.
No one there but me and who ever the fuck was getting in the way of my writing.
Hello I said, in a stern manner.
She said, "where did you go."
To be continued...
