Fetching a Staff in Paris

     ...continued

I started to panic. I had come to a square with large streets in all directions. I began to run first down one, then down another. I still couldn't find anything that looked familiar. A group of homeless men were camped in the middle of the square. They pointed and laughed at me after the third time I went running by with my huge pack on my back. I looked at my watch. The coach was scheduled to leave in five minutes. I had to resign myself to spending the night in Paris unless I could flag it down as it drove past. I didn't even know what street it might be on, so I wasn't surprised when the departure time came and passed without sighting the coach. I had the phone number of the coach company in London. I found a phone and managed to reach the office, though of course no one was there, close to midnight on a Sunday night. The only consolation was that someone had left a large pile of magazines on the sidewalk next to the phone booth and that meant I could have something to read while I waited for the next coach in the morning.

A bar was open on the corner. I walked in to ask the bartender if he might know where to find the coach station. He had never heard of the company. A group of four transvestites in leather giggled at me as I walked out. I started back the way I had come, no longer running. It was time to find some place to stay.

A block or two away from the bar, I looked at my map for the first time since leaving Gare du Nord a few hours earlier. There was the street I first walked when I got off the coach as I arrive in Paris. That was the one I should have looked for in the first place. I looked up at the plaque on the building across the intersection and discovered that I was standing at that very same corner. I looked across the boulevard and spotted the entrance to the hotel where the bus terminal sat. I had walked right by it and never noticed. I crossed the street, saw that the next coach left at 9:00 on Monday morning. I wouldn't miss the terminal the next time.

I went off in search of a cheap hotel. The first one I tried was cheap enough and they had rooms available. Unfortunately, they would only accept cash--no credit cards. Since I had changed only a few dollars, I didn't have enough for the cheapest room. I told the clerk that I would be back if I could get some francs. He looked at his watch and told me I had better hurry. I tried a cash machine again with no more luck than earlier in the day. I tried using my credit card, but I couldn't remember the secret code, so I couldn't get any cash that way either. I had to find a hotel that would accept my credit card.

When several more visits to seedy hotels failed to produce a single one that would accept my credit card, I gave up and began to walk back to Gare du Nord. I figured that I could at least put my bag back in a locker and sleep on a bench. I eyed construction sites and empty benches along the boulevard as I walked. I was so tired that I could imagine stretching out in some hiding place for the night. This part of Paris was too rough for that, though, and I kept walking.