Attaching The Shackles

Pi Chi and I went to Paris not too long ago. It was a pretty good trip. I think all trips to Paris are required to be good. They have some kind of law about it.

While we were planning the trip some people in and around Paris decided it might be fun to set a few cars on fire. This concerned Pi Chi. She did not want to go anywhere where rioting was taking place. I pointed out that our trip would not be for another month and I considered it highly unlikely that these riots would still be in force. It seems like everywhere I go there is some kind of disruption before my arrival. There is often some problem after I leave. As long as nothing too eventful happens while I am there. True to form, as soon as we left Paris some people decided to protest the new student employment law. This has become big news and Pi Chi is glad that we missed it. But really, when are the French not protesting something?

The worst part about this trip for me was the shopping. I knew it was going to happen. Taking Pi Chi to Paris and not expecting her to shop is like taking a priest to a skateboarding convention and not expecting him to stain his pants. But I think I was not fully prepared for the level of shopping in Paris. I knew there are many stores and I knew that the prices there tend to be higher than they do here, especially considering that most items in Paris are genuine and the cheap imitations here are very much not. What I was not counting on was the sheer volume of time we would spend in the intellectual void that is retail.

Pi Chi was on a mission for her sister. Her instructions were to purchase one or two handbags from Louis Vuitton. That sounds simple enough. And there is a large Louis Vuitton boutique on the Champs Elysées. It is also very crowded. At least it was when we went. And the employees are not very helpful. Add French and high end fashion plus retail and you do not exactly get the world’s best customer service. 

I was on a cane at the time, so standing around for a few hours while aging women wearing animals and enough perfume to make Downey smell good was not high on my to do list. I found a chair in a corner and waited. And waited. 

Two hours later Pi Chi returned from the void and informed me that she finally found someone to help her. Oddly enough I thought this meant that we were about to leave. As the French say, on the contrary, my friend. 

I hobbled my sore ass (the chair was not that comfortable) upstairs and was given the honor of sitting in a marginally more comfortable chair for another hour. At least the upstairs showroom was less crowded and the employees were slightly more attuned to ass kissing. By this I mean that some guy offered me a glass of water. 

After three hours in this store Pi Chi told me that we were ready to leave. I was happier than Dick Cheney with a full magazine and a bottle of Jack. (This is where I incorporate a current event to show that I am not out of touch. The fact that this event took place months ago shows just how out of touch I am). We then went downstairs where we were allowed to wait in a line with about 100 other people. We, and they, had already paid. Now that the store had all of our money there was no water, no sitting down; just a lot of waiting for the merchandise. This did not really seem like high end shopping to me. But it did seem like retail. 

We first entered the store at about 1pm. We left with two handbags just after 4:45. 

The total charge was €1,300 (about US$1,576.12). 

During our last few nights in Paris I was trying to find a really nice romantic restaurant. In Paris that should be easy. I happen to not be an expert on Paris. I can tell you where a few good sandwich shops are, and I know that the taxis are ungodly expensive, but other than Louis Vuitton I know next to nothing about where the beautiful people go. 

We went to some nice restaurants, but they were not perfect for the administration of my plan. Also I had a plan. 

On the night of our last full day in the city I found the perfect restaurant. This time I, and not the location, foiled my plan. 

Back at the hotel Pi Chi was looking at the insanely expensive Louis Vuitton purses she bought. I asked her which she preferred. “Do you like that one or that one?” I then pulled the ring out of my pocket. “Or this one?”

I asked her in bad Chinese if she would marry me. 

I have asked two women in my life to marry me. The first one stared at the ring and replied, “Yikes”. She never did say yes. Pi Chi said yes. Actually she said, “Of course” as though it was a given. She barely noticed the ring. She could hardly see it anyway with all of the tears pouring down her face. 

I hope they were tears of joy.