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Saturday, September 30, 2006  
The Parisian Chronicles: Part VI - Deus Ex Lucis
A combination of a geriatric Alaskan cruise and the slavery that was Band Camp has rendered this website dormant. However, it's now somewhat reawakened with the reminiscings of when the skies of Paris were on fire with the celebration of their Independence Day.

We had gotten our taste of shoddy planning in our first two ventures to watch World Cup matches with the natives. We had hoped that our luck would fair better when we planned to watch the Bastille Day fireworks show at the Eiffel Tower. Evidently, as our dear professors informed us, the area surrounding the Eiffel Tower would be barricaded relatively early as the area filled up with people. She estimated around 5:30 pm whereas the actual show would begin at around 10:30 pm... it gets dark really late in Paris in the summer. "Never fear," I told my compatriots. Since I was the resident Paris expert, I would get us there with ample time to spare and a primo spot on the grass by the tower. I did not tell myself or the others at the time that I was not a Paris expert of any sort. But that didn't stop me from analyzing the Metro map to find the best metro exit to take and which would be most crowded. With our makeshift picuhnic baskets and stolen sheets from our hotel rooms in hand, we departed for the Eiffel Tower at around 4:30, set to get off, per my advice, at Trocadero station. For those who don't know, and I'm assuming that's pretty much everyone, you probably want to get off at Bir-Hakeim station to get to the Eiffel Tower since it's closest. However, I estimated that that stop would be most crowded and hence barricaded first so I made an executive decision. And I, as a certain other member of the executive branch of the United States has experienced, would soon find that that executive decision would be based on faulty intelligence.... and would also have no exit strategy.





















As we exited the station with our merde in hand, the dear dear French gendarmes had already politely barricaded off the path leading directly to the Eiffel Tower. "Don't worry guys, there has to be a way around." I swallowed my chronic timidity and asked a gendarme how we could get to the tower. He said that we could take a bridge that we could see in the distance to cross the Seine and hope that it wasn't barricaded on that side yet. Forty-five minutes later, we had crossed the bridge and were sweating our asses off. Across the bridge, we passed by the Bir-Hakeim metro station, relatively vacant given the occasion. None of my companions noticed it, so I didn't mention it. In fact, I've never mentioned it to them so... let's keep it between you and me, k? After losing a couple people and sending people to search said lost people and hope they, including me, would return in time before the barricades were closed, we had established a beautiful spot on the grass where we would await the spectacle to start.






















As we waited for hours for the show to begin, we chatted, lounged, photographed, were accosted by creepy people from Florida wanting us to work for their "Spring Break" company and finally there was some sort of announcement promoting a charity of some sort...and the kabooms began.



I had seen July 4th fireworks in several places. The Hollywood Bowl, the Queen Mary...and I'm sorry to tell you that these French fireworks annihalated any American fireworks I've ever seen.

































(The fireworks setting on my digital camera rules by the way.)

Not only were the actual lights, shapes and explosions and the ear-popping sounds of the fireworks amazing, but the fireworks were set to classical pieces of music and each round of fireworks was impeccably synched up with the given piece of music. And of course when you turned around, the Eiffel Tower was there lurching above you.



The show itself lasted around what seemed like 45 minutes. Every round of fireworks seemed like it was the huge finale. But it wasn't. Those feisty Parisians had way more in store for us. By the time the finale came around, we were pretty overwhelmed with everything we had just seen.



It's cliche to say that it took my breath away, but by golly it took my god damn breath away. When it was over, none of us really wanted to leave, but with the mobs of people rising around us, we figured it would be better for our safety, if nothing else, to get the hell out of there. You see, the young rowdy Parisians like to throw fireworks at people's feet and if it doesn't blow your foot off, it may or may not set your hair on fire. As we made our way back to the metro station, no matter which one, there were barricades all along the road we had to cross. So we decided to hop over the fences. Guys gave the ladies a leg up, then the guys gracefully galloped over the barricade. Not three feet past where we had made Spider-Man proud, the barricades ended and non-ridiculous people were calmly walking through the opening. At least we came across in style. That's what I tell myself anyway.

We really didn't know where we were going for the longest time. There must've been thousands of people around us just walking aimlessly in one direction. There was the occasional explosion or fireball but we learned to either evade or ignore it. By the time we got to the desired metro station, there was already a barbarian horde of people trying to get in and stern gendarmes ushering them in. Past the BO and through the sweat, we made it down through the turnstyles to get on the metro. One metro came, stopped, the doors opened, and a hundred sardines frantically yelled in multiple languages,"THERE'S NO ROOM DON'T GET IN!!" And the metro took off. The next metro came 15 minutes later and the people inside wide-eyed panicked just shook their heads at us. Two of our friends got on somehow. Their faces pressed against the metro window as the metro left were worth the wait and the smell alone. The rest of us survivors gave up and went in search for a taxicab. Paris isn't exactly Manhattan where you can hail a cab but we basically had no other choice. Being the only guy with 4 girls kind of helps your odds in getting a cab. (Did I mention the 6:1 ration of girls to guys in the program yet?) It was a pleasant ride back to the Shitadines, watching the Eiffel Tower sparkle as it disappeared behind us.

We got back at around 2:30 am. Some of us went to the Pizza place by Shitadines for a late nightcap. I thought it was kind of deceitful to eat at an Italian place for Bastille Day, but it didn't really matter. We were les enfants de la Patrie, if not for a month then for one night at least.


Coming up in Part VII (hopefully not in a month): The last time any of us would ever eat Fondu EVER
2:03 AM
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