Deja Moi Comme Ca

Friday, October 12, 2007

Hi Everybody!

I think that when my life gets that little bit boring (and I have nothing to write for Kiss My Fishy) life throws something, sometimes not so good…sometimes awesome, in my direction.

Well last night my parents, my sister and I were going out to dinner with my dad’s friend who’d come over from Ireland. It was all going great (especially my banana split, wow, the first time I’d had it and oooooh *drools*). Anyway, once we’d finished with dinner we took a stroll, about to go to our car but decided to go for drinks first instead (don’t worry, I just had pineapple juice )… anyway, to carry on with my original story!

We walked my dad’s friend back to the hotel he was staying at “for a laugh” as he worded it. The reception was very pretty, filled with plants and statues of… stuff. We said our goodbyes and finally walked back to the car, laughing and joking, as you do. When we got there DISASTER struck! Dun dun DUNNN! No really though… The underground parking was LOCKED! And what’s worse was that our house keys were inside the car! We walked around to the back doors where you’re “supposed” to walk out of, here was the closing (and opening times), just 20 minutes after we’d parked the car, did the doors close (21:00). And they’d only open at 7 am. I know, stupid, eh?!
You see… we didn’t see the times because… okay this is so lazy… Greg (my dad’s friend) had been waiting by the fountain in the main square in my little town for us, and we couldn’t find any parking (because we thought the underground parking would’ve been closed at this time), so we’d driven around the square three times before finally giving in and trying out the underground parking.

We were surprised that it was still open (but we thought it would stay like that all night, once finding out that it was open now because it was all mechanical-ised) and so quickly finding a parking, ran up the ramp, that we’d driven down, instead of walking around the parking lot, finding the door, then walking up the stairs and then crossing the road, this sounds so much more complicated, you see. So the end result was that we didn’t see the times, wow, that was difficult to all get out!

If you’re from the U.K. or just don’t know what under ground parking is… even though it tell you pretty much in the name I will describe . Basically it’s like those high-rise parking buildings, but that’s been squished down underground, I didn’t think anything strange of it when I’d first gone under, then realised that we weren’t driving up, we were going down. They’re really great, well they’re supposed to be, because it makes out that there’s not supposed to be many cars parked on the side of the roads… last night this proved as incorrect !

So anyway… where was I with my original story… oh right, so we were LOCKED OUT of the parking lot, so we couldn’t drive home and even if we took a taxi home we wouldn’t be able to get into the house! We walked straight back to the hotel Greg was staying in, asked if they had rooms left, they were the least bit helpful, the guy looked in his little bookings book, looked up at us and said “Non”. Even though I saw keys hanging up ! He didn’t even lift the phone, or give us directions to another hotel!

We walked around for about 10 minutes, finally finding a hotel. We knocked on the knocker, heard heavy footsteps and a man answered the door. My dad told him our problem (in French) and the guy (I never caught his name so it’ll just be “the guy” for now ) ushered us in went over to his paper filled desk. Picked up the phone and began ringing other hotels, after two attempts I said with my, oh so wonderful French, I know I’m so modest, well it’s not that great but really came in handy here .

Pensez-vous que la police peut… (Do you think that the police can…) he broke me off here, just nodding, dialled the police’s telephone number (17) spoke in rapid French , wrote a number down, hung up, phoned that number, spoke more and hung up again. Smiled, sat up from his seat, brought us outside, pointed and said that a person will come there and open it for us (yes, still in French) we thanked him and walked over to the area.

About 10 minutes later a guy in a GIANT black, zip up coat, walked over, half his face coved by the jacket, hands in pockets (very scary ). He asked us for the parking card, after some searching through my dads pockets, we realised I had it in my purse (give me some credit I was half asleep by this stage ). I handed it to the guy (didn’t catch his name either, so he’ll just be the new “the guy”) he took it, placed it in the machine, the lift opened we all squished into it, with “Whoops, was that all we had to do?”, we all felt absolutely terrible from getting this guy out of bed in the middle of the night. Anyway we went down in the lift, got out, walked over to the car, thanked him.

Got into the car drove to where you’d usually drive to get out, put the card into the machine there, the barrier went up and a few seconds later the iron gate lifted itself up and we drove home. My feet were killing me because I’d been wearing boots so my bed couldn’t have been more welcoming then it was.

I’m afraid to say that no new pictures have been coming through, despite my efforts at sending out tonnes of e-mails to fishing clubs . So hopefully I will get a reply or something. The poll I put in seems to be going well though! Already 11 people have voted .

Okay, well I’ll leave it at that and I really do hope to hear from you all soon. For those of you, who have taken the time out to read my blog, thanks a million!

- Bianca