The Accidental Extremist
There’s No Such Thing As A Bad Trip….

Ne Pas Taser Moi, Bro [Dokuments Please]
Friday February 13th 2009, 5:20 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

          

Trains in Europe seem to move at a more stately pace of life.

Nothing beats the relaxing pace and Old-World romanticism of European train travel.

  Back in 2001, I was living in Paris, juggling language classes, a part-time job that I’d BS’d my way into and a seemingly unquenchable drinking habit. When a longtime friend — whom we’ll call Dave because he’s now a serious painter who takes himself, you guessed it, very seriously — asked to come over for a weeklong visit, I decided to add tour guide to my repertoire. With a stamp-saturated passport, a girlfriend (so what if she was my first?) living in Italy and a reputation to uphold at many a Parisian bar, I was already considering myself quite the international Casanova and so I figured, what the hell, I can show him a good time.

           The plan was to spend the first three spring days living it up in the bars, clubs and crêpe stands (real restaurants were financially out of the question) of Paris, then heading south for a long weekend of skiing in Chamonix. Following a few sleepless nights in the city of lights, including one in which I’d mistakenly lead us into a gay club in search of fine women, we made for the train station for a weekend of soul-cleansing skiing. Unfortunately, there was a train strike (one of many I’d incur the wrath of during my year abroad) and our alpine quest suddenly seemed all but hopeless….

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