Lowest of the LOW

Written By bryanboy

Lowest of the LOW

Yesterday morning was insane. I’ve hit a new personal low and I forgot to bring my camera. What happened yesterday totally ruined my entire day.

After a night’s worth of clubbing with 2 French guys and a Dutch person, we all went to the Hotel Plaza Athenee to have our petit déjeuner – it was 8AM and we didn’t have any sleep whatsoever.

The breakfast was scrumptious, especially the pastries and the omelette. The service was excellent. The people at the cloak rooms were friendly (I wore my chinchilla). Heck, even our waiter was cute. In fact, I think I’ll stay at the Plaza Athenee the next time I go to Paris, just like Carrie Bradshaw. The hotel is absolutely beautiful.

Apres-breakfast, the boys and I quickly strolled Ave Montaigne and revel in the plush surroundings – all the designer boutiques were right in front of my eyes. Took a quick look at a couple of shops… decided not to buy anything. Not when these 3 guys are with me. Shopping is best done when you are alone.

Before having breakfast at Hotel Plaza Athenee, they promised me that they’ll take me back to my hotel, (which is in Le Marais 3rd arr.), via taxi, because I didn’t have cash with me at that time. I literally had 1 euro in my handbag… which is around US$1.20 and my visa card. I thought I don’t need to bring my ATM cards or other cards because it’s just one night out.

The horror started when we reached Champs-Elysees. They all wanted to stroll along Champs-Elysees. I wanted to go to my hotel and sleep… it was fuckin 10 in the morning; I’ve been awake since 2PM the other night.

Since they promised me they’ll drive me home, I gave hints on how I’m tired and exhausted, that it’s very late and I have to go etc. I hope that would prompt them to stick to their promise, but now, one of them wanted to browse the Virgin Megastore.

I told myself "fuck it". I told them I’m going home. By metro or by slow boat, it doesn’t matter. Thank god I have my 1-week metro pass. I don’t care to take the metro, even if I reek of smoke and alcohol, looking like a prostitute. I would’ve taken a cab, like I always do, if I had more money in my pocket or if the cab takes cards.

Sadly, it’s rare for a cab to take credit cards in Paris… a taxi with a credit card terminal is probably nonexistent, unlike in the Scandinavian countries where taxis are ultra modern, complete with GPS guides, credit card terminals, push-button screens and more.

So off I went to the metro from Champs-Elysees. I was supposed to change train at Hotel De Ville but there was some incident at Chatelet station so they closed it down. Somebody apparently got killed in the tracks or wotsit.

I went on a different metro line and ended up at Arts et Metiers station.

Believe it or not, I got LOST and walked around the area for 3 WHOLE hours. I literally couldn’t find my hotel’s street. I didn’t have a map with me – I felt soo stupid for not bringing it.


To top things off, some vicious and street tramp teenage-looking ethnic girl and her boyfriend (presumably animal rights protesters) pulled my Chinchila jacket, causing a HUGE rip at the back.

I would’ve reported that incident to the police but I really could not be bothered.

So there I was, in the middle of Paris, freezing my ass wearing nothing but jeans, a striped red t-shirt and a pearl necklace on.

To top things off, I somehow ended up on this street where there’s a ton of sex shops selling sex toys, costumes and "live peep show" girls.

I went into one of those sex shops selling sex toys, with tears on my eyes, asking for help with directions. This scruffy-looking guy, a tout for the sex shop I assume, must be in his 40s, who had that dirty "I’ll give you a good fucking" look in his eyes, tried to help me with directions, in spite the fact that he doesn’t speak English. At all.

This is what his handwriting looks like. Mind you, the directions were wrong.


There were also 2 strippers who were in the sex shop, trying to look around whether there’s a sweater for me. There was this fake leather bondage and discipline-like coat but I told them no thanks, I’ll pass.

I went out of the sex shop, walked for about 30 more minutes and found a cheap store that sells 2nd hand clothes and I bought a knee-length, olive-green, "army" coat for like 30 euros.

To cut the story short, I looked from one bus stop to another (map) and finally found a route to go back to the hotel… at 2PM!!!!!!!!! Full blown blisters on my feet and all.

It was literally the worst day ever. It ruined my evening yesterday. Not even my gorgeous hotel room, designed by Christian Lacroix, can remove the repugnant stench of yesterday’s event off my head.



Breakfast at Hotel Costes

I thought I’d share some pictures from last Tuesday. Keep in mind they were taken at around 9AM at Hotel Costes. My eyes are red from the booze and I’ve gained weight.




More updates soon.



  1. What a terrible night!! What horrible host you had. All will be good when you wake up!

  2. GASP! bryanBOY ducked into a SECOND HAND SHOP???? And bought something???
    Hell must be freezing over.
    How on earth can you be so dimwitted that you couldn’t find a simple map in all of Paris? Even in NYC they sell them at every newspaper store.
    I shed a birkin-crocodile tear for the inept bryanboy.

  3. The Cardinal Rule in traveling the Rue des Not Exotique ??? Cash baby cash… and a xerox of your passport of course! Practice the art of inconspicuous transfer of small bills to minor bureaucrats for ‘le exception, silvousplait…’ Must acknowledge their perceived status before asking for the exception to the rule… Diplomacy 101, yes ?

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