BLOG TOUR : Confessions of a Paris Party Girl by Vicki Lesage
When newly-single party girl Vicki moved to Paris, she was hoping to indulge in wine, stuff her face with croissants, and fall in love. It proved to be much moredifficile than she’d imagined. In this laugh-out-loud memoir, this cheeky storyteller recounts the highs and lows of her life in the City of Light. Sassy and shamefully honest, Vicki makes you feel as if you’re right there in Paris stumbling along the cobblestones with her.
Will she find love? Will she learn to consume reasonable amounts of alcohol? Will the French administration ever cut her a break?
As I descended the stairs to the platform, a train was already at the quai, its open doors beckoning me. If I hurried, I could make it before they closed. Except that I don’t like to run down stairs (stairs are cousins to bleachers and we know how much I like bleachers). Plus even if I made it to the doors in time, it didn’t guarantee I’d make it through the doors in time.
I decided to take the steps at a leisurely pace and wait on the platform for the next train.
Only problem, this stubborn train wouldn’t leave the station! The open doors taunted me. “You can do it,” they said. “Or are you too chicken?”
I felt stupid just standing on the platform, but was paralyzed with the fear that if I made a dash for the train, that would be the moment the doors chose to slam on my head.
Which is more embarrassing—staying on the platform when the doors are still open and everyone’s wondering why you won’t get in, or getting stuck in the doors?
I solved my dilemma by doing both.
After remaining on the quai long enough to look like an idiot, I figured I might as well hop on the train. I covered the distance at a pace brisk enough to get my long blonde hair swinging, and cleared the doors right as they were closing. Whew, that was close.
All eyes were on me, no doubt wondering what took me so long to take the plunge. I looked for an open seat, anxious to get out of everyone’s line of sight. I took a step and was rudely yanked back. “What the…?”
My hair was stuck in the doors!
Amazon bestselling author Vicki Lesage proves daily that raising two French kids isn’t as easy as the hype lets on. In her three minutes of spare time per week, she writes, sips bubbly, and prepares for the impending zombie apocalypse. She lives in Paris with her French husband, rambunctious son, and charming daughter, all of whom mercifully don’t laugh when she says “au revoir.” She penned the Paris Confessions series in between diaper changes and wine refills. She writes about the ups and downs of life in the City of Light at VickiLesage.com.