Or the account of my decline into barbarism (and all of the lovely, mad people who helped me do it).

Sunday, July 25, 2010

C'est La Vie

I recently returned from a trip to Montreal with Michelle. We stayed at a hostel, stayed up until 6 AM, and slept until noon everyday. I want to share my experience with everyone, because I never want to forget what happened.

Michelle and I arrived. It was Mojito Monday on Crescent St. so we enjoyed our newfound drinking privileges, ate a Nutella crepe, and went to bed early.

Here's where the fun begins...The hostel coordinated a pub crawl, and we decided to go. I talked to the host, Max, and told him I was studying French. By some cosmic force, he introduced me to a few boys from Paris. I freaked when they began speaking to me in French, but I told them my name and that I was studying French and Lit at school.

At the first pub there was a special on beer, so Michelle and I tried it. We hate beer, but attempted to stomach it anyway. At the bar, one of the Parisian boys asked if we'd like to sit with them. I sat next to a boy named Pierre and we talked for awhile. I told him I was studying in Angers this spring and asked if he knew much about the city. His eyes lit up. He had studied there before and he would be there at the same time as me, working. He wrote his name on a metro ticket (which I still have) and told me to contact him through Facebook. He'd help me out when I got there and if I couldn't reach him he'd give me names of his friends.

His friend Brice spoke to Michelle.

"American girls think his accent is very cute, but they can't understand what he's saying." Pierre said, laughing and pointing to them. "We're going to a party after this. Would you like to come?"

The French apparently use party and club interchangeably. But Pierre explained that he and Brice were skipping the second pub on the tour and going to the last one. Michelle and I decided to join.

On the way there, we stopped outside the second bar and this very large toothless man bumped into me. He apologized and introduced himself.

"I'm a UFC fighter. Congratulations, you just met a celebrity." He said, shaking my hand.

"Oh my God! I don't know what to say...I'm just an American girl."

"What are you doing?"

"I think we're trying to get into this bar."

"You are? Here, I can get you in. Come with me." He grabbed my hand and started cutting the line and leading me to the door.

"No!" I said. "I'm with the group!"

"Okay, okay. Well, hot women...Seriously though, you're dynamite!"

We said goodbye and followed the French boys to the nightclub, where we danced until 3:30 AM. Pierre bought shots for Michelle and me and we made out on the dance floor. He taught me how to dance and kissed me on the lips each time he dipped me.

Michelle had tequila and beer spilled on her, so we left soon after. Pierre protected us from a creepy guy who tried to hit on us while he had a smoke a few feet away.

"I leave you for thirty seconds and this happens! You are too hot. You should be ugly." He said.

Pierre asked for my number, Brice paid for our taxi and we walked to a McDo's half a mile away. Pierre picked me up and spun me around, told me he'd take me to his house by the sea where we could see the stars. After we walked back to the hostel, we said goodbye and he told me he wanted to take me to dinner on Friday.

We hiked Mount Royal and Michelle dry heaved into the forest. We ate poutine and sat at the bar that night, looking for fun. Some film producers from Vancouver were there are they invited us to play a drinking game with them. They were twins and their cousin was an actor in their film that was being featured in downtown Montreal. They were also there with three of their friends.

Later, they took us to a bar and we took shots with Parisian girls. The boys left without us. Chris, who had been hitting on me earlier, was super drunk and walked into the middle of the road. Michelle and I got stressed and walked back to the hostel, where we talked to some middle-aged man about sex. Strange...

The boys came back, but the film producers, Denny and Nelson, and their cousin, Ricky went to bed. Chris came back and it was cold so he put his arms around me. He kissed me, told me I was cute, and I later made out with him. He got in bed with me later (WITH MICHELLE IN THE ROOM) and tried making out with me, but I pushed him off. He told me he was leaving the next day and how it sucked he'd never see me again because he liked me a whole lot.

I admitted to Michelle that I was using him for his warmth because it was cold. I just wanted to cuddle in bed, but guys just have to take it to another level.

We went on another bar crawl. Denny told me he wanted to be my writing partner. He bought me my first tequila shot and we got cozy (no kiss) at the bar. I also took whiskey shots with the boys. Michelle got fucking trashed at the third bar and the twins got into a bar fight with a guy who called himself Boston Bob. There was so much blood, and the fight began because Bob was fucking with the foosball table Michelle, the twins, and I are were playing with. We were right in the middle of it all.

The boys got escorted out and we followed them downstairs. They found Bob out back taking a smoke so they beat the shit out of him and ran in the opposite direction. Chris yelled, "You coming with us?" I grabbed Michelle and we heard sirens so all of us ducked into an alley. Cole came running, asked what happened, and ran back to the bar and told Bob he'd stab him in the throat.

We took a taxi home. Chris broke his hand and was looking for pity, so I gave it to him. We sat in his car and listened to Christian music outside the hostel. I was cracking up because this guy was in my bed the night before.

We went to bed at 6 AM, and Chris said he was leaving tomorrow so we should cuddle. Yeah, right.

We woke up at 3 PM and I had a date with Pierre. We met downtown and he took me to a bistro, where he bought me a fifty dollar bottle of Italian white wine and some pasta.

"How did you know I liked white wine?" I asked.

"It was the first thing you told me." He said. We had bonded over hating beer and loving wine. "It's funny the first things people tell you. It says the most about them. So tell me. I want to know everything about you."

"You already do," I said.

"No, I don't. I know that you love white wine, that you and Michelle are best friends and roommates. I know that you want to learn languages and you want to work for the UN as a translator. You are a vegetarian. You went to Italy and you're going to study in Angers in January. But that is all I know."

I told him I was a writer, he said I was brilliant. We talked, as the French do, for an hour and a half at dinner and made the waiter nervous. He asked if I wanted another bottle of wine, but I was drunk, so I declined. He took me to a movie since it was raining and then took a taxi to the hostel. I told him not to forget me, and we separated.

When I got to the room, I had a message from him. He said he missed me already and that he wouldn't forget me.

That night, Michelle and I bought flowers and went to an after party in the twins' hotel room after their film showing. The boys smoked pot twelve feet away from a security officer and Chris and his brother got in trouble for swimming in the pool with some stoned naked girls. Chris kept coming on to me that night, but I didn't respond like I had a few days ago. I really liked Pierre. Denny was also coming on to me but it was awkward because both boys were a little jealous of each other and kept making comments to me like, "There's your boy."

Okay, so while this is happening Pierre tells me he wants me to be his girlfriend. I told him I'd meet him and we'd talk. He went to bed but said he'd wake up when I called him. At five, I left the boys. Denny tried to kiss me but I turned my head. I told the guys I was sick and going to sleep. Michelle stayed with them.

In my room, I called Pierre but he wouldn't wake up. Michelle texted me to tell me where they were so I wouldn't cross paths with them when I met up with Pierre. I had this all planned out. We would meet at the Basilica in downtown Montreal and I would wear my black maxi dress. It was a misty morning and the clouds seemed to rest of the sidewalk.

Here's what happened. Pierre never woke up, but after Michelle told the boys I was sick they really wanted to come see me. Denny kept asking Michelle if he could come see if I was okay. He texted me. I told him I was fine. Then Michelle said they were walking to the hostel.

Shit, Michelle, you're a bad wingman!

Lobby, she said.

Eventually, the boys left. I woke up at 9:30 for our flight and Pierre just woke up. He was very upset that he had missed my calls, but we BBMed for a little while. He told me all of the reasons he wanted to date me in English, then in French. He told me it could work. We'd only be apart for four months. I would travel to Budapest with him in December. He only knew me for two days but he said he'd wait four months for me. I told him he treated me better than any American boy ever had and he said it was because I was worth it. Shit. He said he'd give me as long as I wanted to think of an answer, but I knew what he wanted.

I told him to visit me in NC. I had 182 days until France so he said he'd come in 91 days, right in the middle. If he comes, I might have to say yes. I miss him a lot, and I'm not sure what to think of the situation. Everyone's been pretty cynical thus far, but my mother tells me to hold it loosely. This can't be a coincidence. We're meeting in France in four months, and this could very well be the greatest love of my life.

Au revoir.

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