Pas Bon: A Recipe

DATELINE: 21.06.09 PARIS, FRANCE

1 Young Blond

1 Late Night Subway Ride

20+ Drunk Men

4 Large RATP Sécurité Guards

1 Extra Large Ill Tempered German Shepherd

The hour: 3am. The "Blond": me (I'm considered blond here)

Yesterday was a huge party all over Paris. It happens every year to celebrate the summer solstice, the first official day of summer.  It's called the Fête de la Musique. In every square, many street corners, and pretty much anywhere else someone could put up a sound system, there is live music. All throughout the day and well into the night, there were people in the streets drinking, dancing, enjoying. For this festival the metro continued to run through the night (usually it stops at 12:30am on a Sunday and then you have to catch the rare passage of the Noctilien bus). 

Last night I went to the festival with "the Mexicans": Alex & Ivan, Naomi & Juan, Raymundo, and a number of their friends. The plan had originally been to go salsa dancing. I was stoked and had prepped myself accordingly (but thankfully had remembered to wear sneakers this time). After waiting at the rendezvous point for the longest 5 minutes in human history (which according to all other accounts was an hour and 15 minutes), I met up with Alex & Ivan and learned what "Mexican Time" is (they said it! not me!). Anyone who thinks I'm bad when I'm 20 minutes late, you ain't seen nothin'!!

After getting ourselves repeatedly lost lost within less than an 8 block radius (no, no substances to blame it on, either), we finally managed to connect with Naomi, Juan, & Ray. We then headed toward what I thought was our butt-shakin' destination (pour fair du salsa!). Like the blob that ate Chicago, along the way we picked up another several people, and eventually staked our claim on the edge of a square not far from the metro station Belleville. There was at first a sort of African music playing, and then that gave way to dueling Brazilian drum troops (there is a specific name for this intense kind of rhythm, but for the life of me I can't remember). While the drums were great and a lot of fun, sadly, it seemed salsa dancing had been abandoned. 

After a few hours the drums stopped and the party broke up. Everyone began making their way for the metro. I got on the line that would take me straight home (thankfully did not have to deal with switching trains) and Naomi, Juan, & Ray walked home. 

Now, if I may say in my own defense, traveling home alone at 3am had not been on my agenda for the evening.  Alex lives along the same route as I do and I had assumed that I would travel at least part of the way with she and Ivan. However, they took off before we even arrived at our destination. The other members of our party live in the opposite direction from me.  So there I found myself, at 3am after the Fete de la Musique, alone on the metro.

Well, not exactly alone. Much to my dismay, upon boarding the train I realized that the car I had boarded was full of a group of drunken men. Most of whom seemed to be part of the same group. I took the one open seat and prayed they wouldn't take note of me. I was not so lucky. 

Now, a bit of an aside - there is something that happens to me often here, in broad daylight, in all places, at all times. I think that because I am "blond" (I'm a readhead, dammit! A redhead!), and most French women are not, I stick out like a soar thumb. It's as if I am wearing a large flashing arrow above my head that screams: "Hey! This one here is a foreigner!" However, it is not the typical "frenchman" who perpetrates this harassment, so this is not a typical "French" behavior.  In the interest of not perpetuating any sort of stereotypes about any particular ethnic groups I will refrain from singling any out by specifying. 

Ladies, if you think that the kind of cat-calls and obscenities sometimes slung at us as we walk down the street in the US are bad, you cannot begin to imagine what happens here. I have ben stopped on the sidewalk, stopped on escalators, stopped on the street - my path blocked as they ask me *in English* (_never_ do they even try French - clearly, my little blond self is not French): "Speak english? What's your name? Where you from? How you doing? Where you going?" I have been approached in grocery stores and on the metro. If I respond at all, even to just say "laissez-moi" (meaning leave me alone), they persist. On many occasions I have not responded at all and they proceed to profess their love for me ("it's OK, I love you. I love you."). I learned quickly to not respond at all, and if I am able, to simply keep walking (fast), or to get off the subway at the next stop and change cars. Once I was followed but thanks to an open seat next to someone who looked burly, the guy left me alone. I am so appalled at how common this is, I cannot tell you. I am baffled. Has this EVER been a successful tactic for ANYONE??? What is the point of this harassment? I would think it was meant to show off to their friends except most of the time, the guy appears to be alone. I would like to quote my childhood friend Shela: Boys, if you think for even a moment that this is a way to meet a woman, a way to get her attention and maybe her number, "Brother, you gotta be outchyer damn mind!" 

Ladies, if you journey to France, you must learn the phrase "Laissez-moi, canard." (Leave me alone, asshole) - but be careful with the "canard", I'm warned that these men can get really aggressive if you insult their egos. Mostly, just learn how to not respond when someone stands in your way and tries to get your attention.

So last night I sit down on the metro at 3am to find myself in a car full of drunk 20-something men. I hope to go unnoticed, but the odds were against me. I sit down in the only available seat, and a moment or two later two of the guys switch seats. The guy now next to me tries to engage me. He won't stop and I can't go anywhere else.  I am surrounded on all sides by his buddies. He persists and I eventually give him the talk-to-the-hand and say "laissez-moi! laissez-moi!". I kid you not, he simply laughs. Thankfully at that same time some kid sitting a seat behind us begins to projectile vomit. The perfect distraction, I head for the door as we pull into the station. This is not my stop but I will exit and change cars. 

Only, the train doesn't stop. Nor does it stop at the next one. I am getting a bit nervous that I cannot escape this group of drunk men and that the train also won't be stopping at *my* stop. I'm trying to remember anything I learned my self-defense classes, things taught to me by friends who studied martial arts, and from the few sessions of capoeira I took. I look further down the car and see that way on the other side of these guys is a group of security guards who are laughing as everyone begins dodging the vomit. I decide I am going to go stand next to them. 

The train stops, I open the door and slip out. I follow the guards who get on in the next car down. I get in behind them. There are very few people on the train now. The guards are 4 men in suits that say "RATP Sécurité". They are all well over 6 ft tall, all have shaved heads, broad shoulders, and chissled jaws (and let's not leave out, really nice butts). They have with them a large German Shepherd who is snarling at the crowds, and pulling at his leash.  Ahh, safety.

I get on and ask one of the guards what stations the train will be stopping at. He shows me the map and thankfully mine is among them, two stops up.  I position myself next to them, but behind angry fido. There is a guy sitting in the seat next to our canine friend who says to me "Beutiful dog". I say "Very big dog". He then procedes to try to pet this dog's behind!  Anyone with half a brain knows it is a very bad idea to try to pet a strange dog from behind, much less a very large, ornery, police dog!! Loud enough for the guards to hear it guards hear it, I say, "ne touches pas! ne touches pas!!"  That was when I realize this guy was also going to give me trouble. I'm like a damned magnet! 

But now the guards also have also taken note of him. He starts in with the "speak english? where you from? what's your name?". I ignore him and move so I am standing next to the door, in between two of the enormous guards. We arrive at my stop and I make a point of making myself known to the guards. I thank them for their help, wish them a good night, and exit the train.  I looked back to make sure that none of my unwelcome friends had exited at my station and saw the guards with snarling dog in hand keeping an eye in my direction (or maybe they were just checking out my ass - I don't know, but I think they saved my ass so if they want to check it out as I make my way thankfully safely home at 3:45 in the morning, that's fine by me). Thank god for the RATP and their huge dog!

To the RATP I would like to say: Thank you for making "enormous and intimidating" a requirement for joining the security force. To the RATP Sécurité guys and their snarling dog: Thanks for making my trip home a safe one.