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It was a cold clammy morning, and as I awoke I could not help but wonder what the day had in store for me. It was not just any ole day, but it was my first New Years Eve in Germany. I had just got back from a six-month peace keeping mission in Bosnia, as did the rest of my unit and had a lot of money to travel with. I had plans to go to Amsterdam earlier in the week, but decided not to since the unit next to mine was just raided for drugs. Although, I have never done drugs I knew this would put a spotlight on me, and so I decided it would not be a good idea.
Suddenly I heard a loud knock at my door. I jumped out of bed as if I were on fire, and ran to the door. Who could it be I wondered, is it one of my friends no I thought it is not even seven oclock yet. I opened the door to see Tim standing there half dressed, waking up to the sight of a half naked guy is not a pretty, what I said, he replied get ready Ruben has a rental car, we are going to Paris. I agreed, and we decided that we should leave no later than ten oclock.
I threw some clothes in a bag, then jumped in the shower to wash away the night funk smell. When I was ready, I went up to Tims room to discuses the plans. Tim, Ruben, and I decided that we should invite one more person, so we asked Morty another friend of ours. Morty is a little strange, I thought, but he will provide some good laughs on the trip.
Once we decided on a route, we all hopped in the car, and started our adventure. It was a pleasurable trip there, I remember thinking, Wow, Paris now this is going to be a New Years to remember. Little did I know, I really was in for the trip of my life. We arrived in the city about four thirty that evening, and decided to park in China Town, as the streets were already over crowded. Without a map or any understanding of the French language, we ventured on. I looked down at the old pavement of the streets, only to see trash and dirt overwhelming my Nike sneakers.
I could not believe that, The City of Love was really the city of dirt and filth, but I did not care I was there to have fun not complain about French hygiene. I knew that their was a lot of stuff to see, and we could not see it all, so I suggested that we go see the sights. We all agreed that we should see Notre Dame, Princess Diana's memorial, and of course the Eiffel tower. Tim decided that we should take the subway; even though we did not speak enough French to ask for tickets, I thought we should just walk, but I was quickly out voted. As we approached the ticket counter, we discussed where we should go, Morty said, The city center, always the center man we agreed. After riding the subway for what seemed like hours, I finally escaped to freedom.
The first thing I wanted to see was the huge shadow of the Eiffel tower. What a magnificent force I thought. With childlike abandonment, I ran up the stairs, only to see a concrete jungle. I then decided that I must see this, damn tower everyone is always talking about.
There was almost no speaking amongst the four of us, none of us had ever been here before, and we were all thinking the same thing, Must see Tower. I remember having a thought of almost primal influence as if it was really drawing me closer. The others seemed to be in the same trance, and I knew then that we were definitely going straight there. As I rounded the corner I saw it for the first time, it was magnificent. I was speechless, but I needed to get closer. By the time I crossed the bridge I started to realize that it was solid rust, and really was not anything special.
For the next few minutes, I just stared in utter disbelief. I felt my heart sink as the disappointment captured me. It shook me up like when you are a little kid and walk-in on your parents in that one moment of passion that makes you semi-nauseous for the rest of your life. I knew at that point this was not going to be a good trip. I think everyone was feeling the same way, because Tim suggested we all go and have a drink. Without hesitation, we all agreed.
As we struggled through the rude French people in the streets, we grew increasingly more frustrated. Everyone keep pushing and shoving us almost as if they enjoyed it. We finally settled into a small, but crowded bar for a quick drink. Two hours later, I finally got a beer, just in time to chug it, and go outside to countdown the New Year.
Once it stuck twelve, everyone formed big circles, and started throwing empty champagne bottles in the middle. We decided to go back to the car, but on the way back we saw what we thought was a guy beating-up his girlfriend. I immediately grew angry and Morty was obviously the same, because ran up to get the guy off her but for some reason stopped. Moments later I realized why, but only after I grabbed the guy and threw him down, I looked up and realized that it was not a guy and a girl, but two guys, one just had really long hair and looked feminine.
This started a small, riot like roar in the crowd. We all took off quick before anything serious started. The next day we did some real sight seeing, and decided that Paris was all hype. We saw Notre Dame, the Arc De Triumph, and the Louvre, but nothing really impressed us much.
It was getting later on in the after noon, and we decided to head back to Germany. We drove about an hour when we needed gas the first time. Tim was driving so when we stopped, I gave him some money, and went in side to get some eats for on the way back. I thought about how much more fun I would have had in Amsterdam. Dutch people are so nice and polite, I must have been daydreaming because the next thing I remember the guy at the counter was saying something. Since I do not know any French I tried talking to him in German, he just got a puzzled look on his face.
Morty walked in and said, hey, man we are ready to go. At that moment, the cashier gave us a dirty look as if to say dumb Americans go home. We all got back in the car, and as we pulled across the parking lot, the car started coughing and died. At first confusion set in, it was as if I did know what was going on. Then reality set in as everyone looked at me like, hey you are a mechanic fix it. So there I was, somewhere in France with no tools and a foreign car that was hurting badly.
I decided I had to do something, so I opened the hood, immediately smelling the light aroma of burnt diesel fuel in the gas motor. I was instantaneously outraged. I almost grabbed Tim by the throat, but then realized it was just a dumb mistake, and that he could not read the French gas pump. I quickly came up with the theory that the fuel pump was in the gas tank, and I had to get at least three quarters of the tank emptied, as it was a gas diesel mix in the tank. I cut the gas line in half, and started to turning over the engine. This forced the fuel pump, to pump fuel out of the tank through the severed line, and onto the ground.
Tim and Morty went to another gas station up the road, and cut the airline off the air compressor, so I could use it patch the severed fuel line. Meanwhile, Ruben went inside and bought some hose clamps to tighten the patched line. After this long and tedious process, I finally got it all back together. I felt like a total outlaw.
There was just one problem; the battery was dead from turning over the engine too many times without starting it. We decided to try to get it running anyway, so we pushed the car up to the pump, and put the proper fuel in it. However, the car battery was completely dead. This proposed the question, how do you say jumper cables in French. We were all clueless, and nobody spoke English.
Finally, after about five more hours, some French guy walked up to us unexpectedly and said, Can I help you. I could have kissed him, but instead all I could say was, how do you say jumper cables in French. I never did get an answer, but luckily, he had a set. We jumped it, and the car started right up and ran well all the way home, go figure. As soon as we got back, I went to my room, and thought about what had happened. Forty liters of diesel in the gas station parking lot parking lot and an air hose holding the fuel system together, What a trip, where did I go again I said sarcastically to myself.
Wherever it was, I needed to take a nap. Bibliography:
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