Free Days - Chapter One

Free Days - Chapter One

A Story by Kristopher Curran
"

Two friends go to Paris on a whim, unprepared and out of their comfort zone.

"
It was a dark cold night in February, and the cash machine read 'Guichet Automatique De Banque.' I chuckled.
 "Hey man. We're in Paris!"
"I know…", Queenie's excitement had not escaped me. I felt it too, I just really needed a smoke and by a 'smoke' I didn't mean a cigarette. I continued… "Bonjour, Ca Va" and some other mocking, yet basic phrases. Queenie was restless though. "I need to rock a piss", he said.
Queenie and myself were standing in the Charles De Gaulle Airport, France.
It was a pretty wild scene. "This way." I ordered, marching off ahead. Queenie followed, the toilets were located at the far end of the terminal. When we reached them I waited outside. I told Queenie I would wait until we reached the hotel to do my business. He was quick to remind me it was a hostel. I told him I didn't give a f**k, then he disappeared into the bathroom.
Queenie was a good guy I guess, I had known him a long time, too long some might say. A tall man with a bad taste in attire and a worse taste in English language.
Why were we both in Paris, France? It was the main question on my mind.
Being in the airport, seeing and hearing the French language, looking at the 'fake' money in my pocket had just answered that question.

We needed a change, home was killing us. Paris would do…

"Bonjour!", Queenie's greeting as he emerged from the bathroom. I corrected him, telling him it was "Bonsoir", as it was evening. Queenie instantly declared that we were fucked. I agreed.
I decided we needed to get out of the airport and into Paris. I knew as soon as I saw something remotely and romantically Parisian, I would relax.
"Check it out!" Queenie was in overdrive with the excitement. He was now pointing at two girls up-ahead.
They were on the same flight as us, same aisle and Queenie had stared at them the whole way.
I on the other hand, listened. It's much more rewarding in matters of… Well, checking out women.
What I had gathered was, they were both Art School students, stuck up, self-absorbed, pretentious (in the bad way), unintelligent and yet… One of them was incredible. Not in a cover-girl or supermodel way. Beautiful eye's, caring face, Auburn hair, a lovely smile (which I received a few of whilst sneaking glances) and she had a pretty good figure. In spite of her good looks though, I could tell she would be an unsuitable match. Too irritating, with her faux American accent, obvious vanity and just generally dull aura.
Her friend, the other girl looked good too, she was just a complete b***h.
I told Queenie I didn't care for his observation. We should concentrate on getting out of the terminal.
"I know…" came his reply, "…but if we follow them, we can get out?"
Queenie was right. I made sure we paced behind them at a safe distance, safe for Queenie's relentless gaze to go unnoticed. It was insane. The guy was like a junkie, eyeing people on the street, maybe to stab them for change, all to buy a bag of whatever it was that made him get bug eyed. Queenie needed to know this… I told him.
"F**k you man! You're checking them out too!" The guy could clearly not be reasoned with.

Not being able to read French was proving to be a problem. All the ticket machines were labelled with instructions I could not decipher.
The girls were long gone… thank god and so long I thought to myself. The girl with the Auburn hair and those amazing eye's.  "She was into me, I could tell." was all I could think to say as I got lost in notions of regret.
"Of course she was!" came Queenie's disapproving, overly sarcastic and jealous answer. I noticed two maps on a billboard. Both had the routes and arrivals of the trains laid out in coloured lines.
The lines were all Green, Yellow, Orange, Pink, Brown and Black.
Queenie asked where we were going. I told him Paris, I also asked him if he was  mentally okay.
"F**k you!" he told me, prolonging the 'Uh' part of the f**k. "Let's go ask that ticket guy over there."
Again, Queenie was right. There was a tall black man standing behind a ticket booth taking questions.
The queue was ridiculous, it looked like half of the passengers on our flight needed assistance of some kind.
It felt somewhat comforting knowing we were not alone in our destination problem. Never the less…
"F**k this," I said, "Have you got the map? The details?"
"Yeah."
"Let me see them. I want to see the area we are going to."
Queenie looked pissed now, "I told you! It's the Montmartre district. We need to get a train."
"Then let's go and get one! F**k this queue." I began to walk back towards the terminal, with the trains, I wasn't enjoying the current area we were in.
Too many people, lost people, not knowing why they were here, where here was.
 It felt like a ditch, walls of escalators, vast empty spaces and a small ticket booth at it's lifeless center.
Queenie had caught up with me, "Where the f**k are you going man?! We need to wait and ask that guy."
"What guy?" I snapped.
"The f*****g ticket guy! Jesus Christ!"
"He doesn't know."
By this point I was lost to a fowl mood, tired, cranky, frustrated, hungry and worried.
I was worried that this getaway was a wrong move. I wanted an adventure!
Adventurers like Queenie and myself don't wait in queues, willingly waiting to be hand-held into excitement. I was going to get to this hostel on my own, or what was the point in being Twenty-Five?
Then I saw it… and them.
The Tourist Travel Information desk and waiting in line, laughing and chatting… It was the girls from the flight.
"Let's go in here" I declared. The adventure could begin right after we stopped in here…

The queue was not as long as the previously attempted one, there were three airport staff, each at separate desks, all helping lost people.
"Check who is in the queue!", Queenie only just noticing the girls from before.
"Yeah, I know. Why don't you go talk to them? See if they are heading the same way?" I asked, Queenie chuckled nervously at me,
I expected nothing less from the guy. "Nah man, they are just about to get seen to anyway".
The two girls approached the desk confidently, a middle-aged white woman greeted them with a stern and blank look.
The girl with the Auburn hair was conversing well, I couldn't make out if it was French or English. It was at this point I noticed her friend staring at me, staring at her friend. I looked away quickly trying to cover the tracks made by my eyes, I made some bullshit conversation with Queenie.
"What time is it?" I asked him,
 "Eight-Sixteen, why?"
Desperately I tried not to look in the direction of the girls.
"Feels like we have been in this place forever, I just want to get the f**k out of here."
"I know man. Well, this guy will help us out." Queenie nodded over to a small black man seated behind a glass partition.
I glanced at the man briefly and then at the two girls. They were leaving the desk and heading out into the vast empty space, laughing as they vanished amongst the lost people.
Again, they were gone. What was wrong with me? I see beautiful woman all the time and I never react that way.
The man behind glass waved us over, Queenie was now leading, I paced behind him.
"Bonsoir." spoke the man.
 "Ah, Bonjour…" answered Queenie, totally blanking the differentiation between day and night, again.
Afterwards he explained that it was nerves. These foreign-conversational nerves would prove to be trusty companions to both of us. Once the man relayed his instructions we rushed to catch the necessary train. Without realising it we were speed walking…
Queenie looked panicked, "Did you see where those chicks went?"
"No, who cares, there will be plenty of hot girls in Paris." I replied.
"Yeah, but they weren't French, we could have chatted to them. I can't speak French for s**t man."
I saw the platform we needed to get to, a long, blue and industrial train lay next to it. It was waiting for Queenie and I, to take us. I had given up on the girls now, Paris was calling me. It was calling me to explore it's history, it's scenery, it's promises. This is why we were here.
"Come on, hurry. They might be on this train." I frantically chirped to Queenie as we began running down the stairs.

© 2013 Kristopher Curran


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Added on May 30, 2013
Last Updated on October 4, 2013
Tags: Paris, Adventure, Comedy