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May 21, 2013, 12:25pm

Any Port in a Storm :: Beyond the Breakwater :: Ports of Call :: Canadian predators

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Topic: Canadian predators (Read 1,067 times)

kerouac2
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Joined: Feb 2009
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Posts: 34,482
Location: Paris, France

Canadian predators
« Thread Started on Oct 31, 2009, 4:58pm »

Yesterday, ~~my nephew~~ some guy I was taking care of, a 29 year old lawyer, was allowed to set out on his own to discover Paris. I had picked him up at Orly last night, coming in on the last flight from Marrakesh. Back at my place at half past midnight, he consumed large amounts of bread and cheese and siphoned down a considerable amount of wine. This leads me to suspect that there may be nothing to eat in Morocco.

Anyway, I got up Friday morning and went to work, leaving him keys, metro tickets, two croissants, a pain au chocolat and a half baguette. The plan was for him to be back at my place around 17:00 so he could say goodbye to ~~his grandmother~~ an old lady I go to visit, before we went out on the town to have dinner at a restaurant and see a movie. I carefully wrote down the codes that he could use at any pay phone to call me if there was any reason to call me, and I gave all of the various phone numbers.

I got back home around 16:20 (sneaking out of a retirement party at the office) and did a quick errand at the bank, but at 17:00 still no sign of nephew. So I went to see ~~my mother~~ the old lady in question as per the usual procedure, knowing that she would not really care anyway and also knowing that there was no major link between ~~my nephew and his grandmother~~ either of them, so really not a problem. I left a note saying that I would be back at 18:15 and giving my mobile phone number again.

Well, at 18:15, still no trace of ~~nephew~~ what's-his-name, so I settled in to wait for a certain amount of time. I had imagined that this might happen, with him wandering around Paris alone for the first time in his life and discovering the city. It really did not bother me at all if he was having such a great time that he had lost track of the time.

19:00 came and went, as did 20:00 and also 21:00. I figured that something exceptional had happened to him and did not hold it against him at all. After all, he was 29 years old and in Paris. I fixed myself some dinner and ate in front of the television and the internet.

By 22:00, I had allocated 2% of my mind to the possibility that he was in a hospital and about 35% to the idea that he had met “a girl,” and the remaining percentage to just having some fascinating adventure of discovery. I was, however, beginning to wonder what I should do if he did not reappear before it was time to leave for the airport the next morning. I had examined the room where I had lodged him, and there was some serious packing that still needed to be done.

At 22:30, I heard the key turn in the lock. He staggered into the living room and said, “I am so drunk and I got lost and I am never going to Canada!”

(to be continued)