I had a wicked tequila hangover. We had torched a bottle and a half of nice 100% Agave Reposado that I had just brought back from Mexico between the two of us. I had puked my guts out in the night, already jet lagged and only having eaten a light supper – that morning my head was pounding and I was completely dehydrated. I don’t think I touched tequila for a long time after that. I had a train to catch back to Lyon, but first I had to take the Paris metro.
I couldn’t have just gotten out of there easy. No, I had to pay for my night of debauchery ( :-O ). I couldn’t have gotten off with a nice acoustic guitar player. I would have even been thankful for a polka-playing accordionist, but noooo. You know what came on one stop after I did? A saxophonist with a portable amplifier booming really bad 80′s remixes in French. Oh yeah. And the guy was wailing full volume on his sax. I yelled, “Pitiez ! Pitiez !” But I only had pesos in my pocket and didn’t think I couldn’t buy him off. It lasted for four or five stops – I almost died.