Dennis & Aimee's Big Gay Paris Adventure

On the way to the restaurant yesterday, via metro, I got busted by the Metro police. Wrongly, I might add. We were all dressed up in our fancy duds, and as we got off of the second train, I tossed my little purple ticket into the trash can. I figured, I’m off the train now, right? Usually I hold on to it in a pocket, but I had no pockets in my dinner clothes.

Well, at the foot of the stairs were the Metro police, checking everyone’s tickets. I ran back up and plucked two tickets out of the trashcan, but neither of them were the right one, apparently.

If I spoke French well enough, I would have said “What, do you think I jumped the turnstiles in my wraparound skirt and four inch heels?” But as it was, I was annoyed, frustrated, angry, and a bit ashamed of picking through a trash can. There was a man at the top of the stairs who was the Metro police, and he got all huffy AFTER WATCHING ME THROW AWAY MY TICKET when I went to go look for it. He can piss off.

So, I’ve donated 25 Euros (instant fine) to the Metro police, bastards. All if this after I showed them the unused tickets in my wallet, and pointed out that Mark and Jill had tickets from the same ticket book.

I fumed for two minutes then put it behind me so we could enjoy dinner, but man. It’s a shame that after we see people waiting for us to go through the turnstile so that they can jump in after us through the gate, it’s the law-abiding loyal ticket purchaser who gets to pay the fine. Just for that, I hope Paris gets the Olympics. That’ll show ‘em.

--Aimee