strikes, je les deteste

France is still paralyzed by strikes. Wait. That is not correct. It's not fully paralyzed, just severely maimed so that crawling is the only method of movement and staying still is not an option. During the last strike in October, I didn't have to go to work because transportation was shut down almost entirely. This was better because it was only two days. It's been a week now with barely any service. Now I have been fairly lucky in all this. The two lines I have to take to get to the train station for work are working relatively well. My train has been almost 45 minutes late on a couple of occasions, but never once did I fear for my life. Until last night.

I am, of course, exaggerating. But it was a pretty intense situation. I went to a concert last night in the north of Paris. As a sidenote, it was the band Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, and they were fantastic. So I arrived in St. Lazare, the train station, from work. I was in the north already, so I didn't really think it was a problem to get to the concert. I had to make two transfers to the venue. With the first train, I lucked out. I jumped on a crowded train immediately with no waiting. The second train was another story. I got to the platform and it was pretty full. It was about 6:30 and I needed to be somewhere for 7:30. No big deal. Tons of time.

no.

the train came around 6:50. It was packed. Sardine packed. I'm second from the front of the platform, so I figured I was getting on. After 2 minutes of people just trying to disembark, all of a sudden what felt like a vacuum or a strong undertow overtook me and i got sucked away from the doors. Instantly, the train was packed. A metro worker came around to manually close the doors because people were hanging out. That train left, and I was still on the platform. Stupid me didn't check the actual address of the venue; i just knew the metro stop where I was meeting missy and phil. so walking wasn't really an option. i waited another 15 minutes and a train came. This time, I was getting on the train regardless. I ignored the fisticuffs going on near the other doors because people were fighting to get on and off and just maintained my focus on my goal; cramming myself on this already crammed train. So i jumped on and was barely in. Luckily, I got some help from the 10 other people that come on behind me so I was wedged in nicely. I am not exaggerating about the close proximity. This is what I was able to do whilst waiting for my stop.

1)Feel the physical motion of breathing from the man behind me.
2)Have my cheek pressed against a strangers face because someone was holding the pole in such a way that I has incapable of movement
3)Feel the ass muscles of the man in front of me flex continuously

Far too intimate encounters for the first meetings. I mean, I didn't even get dinner first.

At last, I did manage to get off the metro with fairly little hassle. It was probably similar to what it would feel like to be conscious during the journey through the birth canal. But i did get free with my person intact. Early too somehow. We managed to have 15 minutes to eat tasteless paninis in the rain before enjoying the opening act of very heavy french metal-rock, and having ourselves some expensive pints.

The concert was quite amazing. The actual place was wicked, and I had a really good time, despite a brief loss of consciousness. They played most of my favourite songs and they were really good live.

here is a picture of my boyfriend. I haven't gotten around to telling him yet though. i think he'll be cool with it if i tell my family we're soul mates and tattoo his name across my chest. who doesn't love crazy?



I will also add this picture phil took, because i think it looks cool. you should always do things if they make you look cool.



and those are my adventures with Parisian transit strikes. hopefully i will not have any more to tell. but i strongly doubt this.

to sarkozy, and the unions i say this:
je vous deteste
you flippin' asshats