Free Days - Chapter Two

Chapter Two of Free Days

The train journey took around forty minutes, forty minutes of paranoia, fear and excitement.
It started smooth. Queenie and I had a whole carriage to ourselves. The seats were large and Blue, yet uncomfortable. Graffiti lined practically every inch of the carriage, it reminded me of the
underground trains in New York City I had seen. Regardless of the alien art and discomfort, I was having the best time. Queenie looked glum.
"Your not thinking of those girls?" I inquired, I knew he wasn't.
"F**k off!" I was right. "I've just realized I have no f*****g Money at all."
"I told you, I will cover you until you get paid." I said, trying to reassure him, mainly to get him on my wavelength. I did mean it though.
"How much do you have?" as he was asking this, six black men boarded the train. Four of them were shouting and laughing at each other in French, two of them were arguing, just friends having a good time I told myself, relax.
They sat down behind us and It didn't go unnoticed that each of them were dressed in attire that would pass as strict dress code in a Tupac video.
I looked over at Queenie, he was looking at me, I knew he was having the same thoughts. Thoughts about two non-French, white boys out of their depth and getting in a ruckus they couldn't handle.
I wanted to reassure Queenie somehow, let him know I was not perturbed in the slightest. I was though and I couldn't say anything to him.
I didn't want to reveal we were English speaking. As soon the train started up and we were moving I began to relax…
"What the f**k is wrong with me?" I thought aloud.
"What do you mean man?" Queenie puzzled.
"Ah, forget it" I stated, Queenie could sense my mood.
"Chill the f**k out man, we're in Paris!"
"I know…"
I think that was part of my problem. My whole anticipation of this trip was instantly flattened by my current surroundings. The cheap inner-city looking train, the dilapidated buildings that drifted past my window, the cold bite to the air, there was no Eiffel tower, no classy looking Parisians sipping coffee and puffing cigarettes.
Everything my imagination had prepared me for was non-existent, well, that's imagination for you….. Queenie was lost to his mobile phone, social networking no doubt. It was a sickness and unfortunately Queenie had it terminally.
I looked at my own phone, equally as capable of quenching the thirst for news, gossip and interaction, typically, I had no signal. I felt lost. Disconnected. The train drifted past a football stadium, the rowdy locals behind us began shouting some abuse directed at the sports ground. A rival club to the one they championed no doubt. After a good forty minutes of wandering aimlessly in my own mind we had arrived in Paris.

"Are we in a shopping centre?!!", I had alarmed myself, Queenie too.
"I guess so man. What the f**k?", both of our eyes were trying to adjust to the bizarre reveal.
We had just stepped off the train and into a shopping centre. All those lost people dashing around, effortlessly avoiding each other, as they moved at such slick speed. All of them darting from one train to another or moving from shop to train. None of them came across perturbed at the nature their surroundings. Up on the balcony, I clocked two military guys, both carrying semi-automatic machine guns.
"Check it out…", Queenie had noticed them too, "F*****g hell man, we're going to get capped."
"Nah, we'll be cool.", I reassured myself as Queenie laughed at the idea.
I noticed a set of stairs up ahead, "This way." I ordered without any reason, Queenie followed.
Most of the shopping center had barricades in it's corridors. Every now and then, little machines would jerk tickets from between our fingers and offer them back instantly. I don't know why exactly, but I always enjoyed the process.
After we had passed through three or four of the ticket machines I began to see signs for the Metro.
"What's the name of the area again?" I impatiently asked Queenie,
"Jesus Christ man, it's the Montmartre district."
"Where is it on this thing, I can't see it…" I was looking directly at a huge map of the Metro system, it wore the same familiar, yet strange Green, Yellow, Orange, Pink, Brown and Black lines as the previous one's. Queenie and I would become experts at reading this soon enough….
"We need to get to a stop called Marcadet Poissonniers, Green line."
Queenie seemed to adapt instantly, I agreed, if he was wrong, it was on him. I just really needed to use the bathroom.

 A very attractive and twenty-something Brunette greeted us at the ticket desk.
"Bonsoir." she coldly stated. Queenie just stared at her with the map down at his sides. I went for it…
"Hello, we are wanting to go here." I was pointing at the Marcadet Poissonniers stop on the map.
"Oui." she said, followed by some other French pleasantries. I just handed her over some money, she then smiled and said in excellent English.
"You go down to your left and you will find your stop."
Queenie and I both jolted alive at this beautiful woman and her English speaking voice, "Thank you very much." I replied.
 "Awesome!" spoke Queenie as he stared at her and lifted his fist like he was at a rally. The man was a liability. I shoved him along. He perked up, "Right. Pretty confident I know where we are going now man."
Our train showed up as soon as we got to the platform, it was dead, no one was aboard and that horrible paranoia of disconnection was creeping back….
The Metro trains were similar to what I had seen in films that featured the London underground.
Bright lights with a Turquoise aesthetic, perfume adverts in French which I could see Queenie trying to decipher. As the train hummed along, I noticed one of the adverts featured the actress Juliette Binoche, 'MAGNIFIQUE' it read under a picture of the stunning actress in a red dress.
Tiredness was beginning it's consumption of my mind. I couldn't quite believe that I was in Paris. Only three hours prior I was sitting in my hovel of a room frantically grabbing what I could take. Here I was, limited money, no idea of where to go and very tired. "This is it!" Queenie declared as the train came to an abrupt stop.
As we exited the train, again, we could see the station was dead, the bite of the cold air greeted me straight away. It was late and our hostel close by. Ascending the steps out into the street I felt a nervous energy control me. It was excitement. Where would we be when we left this station? "Aw man, it's f*****g snowing!" Queenie practically screamed, I backed him up with a Jesus F*****g Christ! It was freezing also. In my rush to leave, all I had packed was a summer jacket and a few T-shirts. Then I saw it, I saw what I had came to see…

The roads were covered in a fine layer of snow, the Metro entrance we stood at was an island, an island in a cross section of cobbled roads. The sky was black and and flowing like a river due to the shower of snow. I could barely see through the blizzard, ahead I could make out a small Bar/Restaurant open, it bore the red neon-lit signage that spelled BRASSERIE.
To my right was a gargantuan building that looked like government property, it's architecture hypnotic and sprawling in height. A horse or a unicorn, I wasn't entirely sure, sat atop it's illuminated dome. The national flag of France hanging perfectly from it's ledge. Queenie was marching through the snow and down the cobble stoned street, "Man! The hostel is right up here!" I stood watching him march off and I laughed a laugh of insane joy.
From the outside our hostel looked very welcoming, modern, slick and attractive. It had nice open windows, inside I could make out couches and a computer area. The windows were steamed which informed me inside was warm, "Is this it?" Queenie was speaking to himself, "It f*****g better be man." I told him as I walked inside.
Behind the desk was a man in his early twenties, he had thick dark hair, an athletic build accompanied by what I would call book reader glasses. "Bonsoir.", he said in a miserable fashion, the man began to ramble something else in French but I was tired and in need of a piss. "English?" I inquired, cutting him off.
It took the man aback, for a moment he did not speak, I re-asked my question, "Do you speak English?" I looked for Queenie, he was outside enjoying a cigarette, seeing him smoke outside in the cold reminded me of watching a Dog chew a bone. He was lost to his pleasure, I was on my own for this one.
The hostel worker rose from his chair and his muscular frame was revealed to compliment his intimidating height, "You have details?", he spoke in broken English. "Details, details, ah!", I had to call out to Queenie as he had all the paperwork. I commanded him to get inside, "F*****g hell man… Chill out." Going into his backpack he yanked out some crumpled paperwork and handed it over to the man. "You got the money?", Queenie was pissed for some reason, I had a feeling it was because he was currently broke. I told him I had it as I waited for the receptionist to do something helpful. Finally he handed the paperwork back, "Just two of you?", he asked.
I wanted to inform him that there was in fact three of us but one of us was invisible. I now knew I was tired and any sarcasm spoke would be a waste of everyone's time.
 "Oui.", Queenie replied.
 "This is your key, only one for room." Queenie took the key and handed it to me, the receptionist continued. "Second key for the main door. We lock it after eleven in evening."
Again Queenie took the second key but this time placed it in his jacket pocket. The receptionist finished, "You are room Eighteen thank you." It was now Queenie's turn, "How much are the computers to use?", the man needed his networking tools. Like I said before, it was a disease. "Four Euro's," the receptionist told him. Queenie just gave the man a thumbs-up and changed his attention to me, "I'm going to smoke-up and check some emails man, I'll just get you in the room?". I told him that was cool but he should sort his life out, he told me to go f**k myself as he strolled outside again, into the blizzard. I headed up a narrow wooden staircase to room eighteen, I really had to piss.

The room was small enough that it could contain a set of bunk beds, a wash sink, small wardrobe and a chair. You get what you pay for I thought to myself and I was okay with what I saw. I ditched my bag and coat and left the room to find the toilet.
The hallway on the second floor like the staircase was incredibly narrow, if two people were heading down it in different directions, there would be a problem. I could tell the walls were paper thin, I could hear what sounded like German chants from above and a cacophony of languages below, laughter, shouting followed by more laughter.
Student tourists I thought, they better keep it down I was in no mood for noise. I located the bathroom at the end of the corridor and relived myself instantly. Looking down at the toilet, it was quite amusing to see a foot-pedal for a flusher and I enjoyed the action of engaging it thoroughly. This is what I came to Paris for, a different way to flush my piss.
Back in the room I began to unpack. I had brought a shirt, two t-shirts, two pairs of socks, two pairs of boxers and a change of jeans. The weather and temperature outside was mocking me for my lack of heavy clothing, it could go f**k itself. I hung-up the Shirt and threw the rest of my clothes in a heap. I studied the bunk bed, two thin sheets and a fleeced blanket. I hated fleece as material, so I yanked the blanket from the top and placed it on the bottom bed. Ever since I had been a child sleeping on the bottom bunk had scared me.
It was something I had seen in a cartoon, a guy climbs into bed on the lower bunk and his Dog jumps on top causing the bed to collapse and crush him. I was not going to be crushed by a man like Queenie… Then I thought about it, Queenie was a monster when he slept, he snored like a wild beast blowing a trumpet. If I took the lower bunk I could at least push the mattress with my feet anytime he disturbed me…. The door went, Queenie had found me. "It is f*****g freezing!", Queenie declared, I told him to shut up, I knew what the weather was like. I informed him I was taking the lower bunk so I could stir him if he got too disruptive,
 "Whatever man, why are you taking the two blankets?" I placed them both on the top bunk explaining my hatred of fleeces.
It was time to sleep. Tomorrow I would see Paris.