…no, not the city, or the hotel, but a man – and not just any man. Folks I know in the states, places like California and the like, would probably not be quite as enamored with Paris as I am – but that is because, according to Pretty Woman, there are people like him everywhere. Welcome to Hollywood – Everybody’s got a dream! Hehe.
Anyway, Paris. The man fast becoming legend.
It all started last weekend, on Friday, when I headed out to hear my buddy’s band, Spotted Sawyer. It’s been a while since I had heard SS play, as they’d been in other cities around the state and I’m a local groupie, not one that travels with them. Hehehe. I’ve been a fan for years, as Scotty used to live on my street, and I’d heard him practice and play since they were Tuff E Nuff, 20 years ago. So yes, I’m a big fan, and since I started going out and they started playing as SS here in town, I try to see them just about every weekend. I like to support my friends – and they’re good.
Anyway!
So they were playing at a new bar here in town, the Main St. Tap & Grill, which is so new they don’t even have the Grill part yet! I went in and waved at the band and took a seat, and ordered my margarita. Not too long after, I see a tall man out of the corner of my eye walking in. Now, I like ‘em tall – AND I like em bald, and his hat fell off, and I saw he was both, so I was like hmmmm. Then he was headed my way. He was carrying a backpack, that was obviously very heavy. He carried it at waist level, away from his body, and his biceps were bulging, and he cut through the tables, and dropped it between my booth seat and the one next to me. It hit the floor with a SLAM, and I arched a brow at him.
“I carry bricks in there.” He said, with a grin. “Don’t touch.”
Bricks of what?! I thought, and calmly stretched out a finger and laid it on top of his pack. “Touch.”
He laughed, mentioned he was living on the road, and wandered off again, and I went back to my drink, and the music, only to see him return a few moment’s later with another bag, that he sat on top of the first, and a couple of hats – one he put on his head (A beat up cross between a fedora and cowboy hat)- before he stepped away and I figured I was to be his baggage watch person for some reason. I guess I look trustworthy.
I’ll give you a moment to quit laughing. Done? Kay then!
So he steps away, and decides he wants to take off his coat. One sleeve gets caught on his bracelet and.. well, you know how little kids spin around and around trying to get their coats off? Spinning and shaking their arms and shouting “get off get off GET OFF”? Yes. It was that. Exactly. With a “Get off my BLING motherfucker!” Thrown in for spice, as his sandal flew off and he finally managed to get his coat off and added to the pile next to me. He flashed me a grin, and stood and turned away, which is when the lights glinted off his buttons. Not button – but multiple buttons and pins all over his shirt – kinda like pin collectors at conventions. It was all I could do to simply lift my glass to him – and not burst out laughing.
Ok, I laughed. But I waited until he wandered off again. I mean seriously. Oh. My. God.
And so the night moves on, and I have seen groups of girls dance, girls dance alone (A few drinks and I dance alone too!) but I have never seen a man get up and dance alone on the dance floor. Now, Scotty told me later he has, but not in Kenai, so that is why it was so unusual. Paris roamed the bar, drink in hand, singing along at the top of his longs, and hit the dance floor.
Oh. How he hit the dance floor! He would bounce, and dance, and salute the band with a lit lighter, and kick off his shoes, and find them and kick them off again, and sing along, and try endlessly to do the ‘kick the hat off the foot and catch it on your head’ move..
…which is when his shoe almost took out a light. Heh. Whoops.
He wandered around, bumming cigarettes, and talking to anyone who looked his way. He told me once, while I was giggling, that it was ok, he was from LA, so he was supposed to be weird.
Mission accomplished, sir.
Mission.
Accomplished.
He was back the next night, and in fine form again, as he wandered (Sans luggage this time) and talked. This time, he stopped at the table I was sitting at, and introduced himself, and made fun of the fact I was playing Words With Friends, alone at a bar, on a Saturday night. Hah. I pointed out I was there for the band, and he put it together. “Oh! You work at Walmart with Scotty!” Yes, yes I do. He found this amazing, and continued on his merry way, only to return time and time again, to say hello. I later moved to the table of band wives, as it was one of their birthday’s, and we were celebrating. He came over again.
“Oh! Is this the Walmart table?!” I said no, it was the band table, and he seemed disappointed. Little did I know that my JOB was what was the most interesting thing about me. Ha! As he walked away, one of the ladies looked at me, eyes wide…
“Do you KNOW him?! Oh My GOD!”
I assured her I didn’t, and told her of the shenanigans last night, just as he almost took out another light on the floor with his shoe. The band guys talked to him, and said he needed to calm down. He did with the next song. Play that funky music. You know the part that says “Lay down and boogie”?
…he did. ha!
Later that week, Scotty told me that he’d seen him get kicked out of Bargain Basement as well – he was leaning in and asking if he could come in and get his gloves, and being told no. Repeatedly. That he was not allowed to come in for another 24 hours. hehehe.
Would that it ended there.. but no. Paris, he’s becoming infamous around our little town.
I didn’t see him Friday night, and thought he’d moved on. I was late to the bar, as I went out to see Rock of Ages first (TOTAL WIN. GO SEE. NOW! They took every best part of my high school, musically speaking, and wrapped it up into a big ball of AWESOME!). Last night, though he was there, peeking into the bar, but not actually stepping foot inside. I figured he had gotten booted for good.
So, after a lovely lady bought me something blue.. called an “Audios Motherfucker” and half of it had me dancing alone on the floor – which was fine as it was dead and more of a private show than anything else. Of course, all that dancing made me thirsty so i drank the rest of the drink, and then headed to the Bow – which was also dead. It was fun though, because a lovely gentleman taught me to two-step, and waltz, and said I was a lovely dancer who learned quickly and he’d love to dance with me again. Yay me! Course, he assured me I was the wrong gender for him to be hitting on me, but that’s ok, because TWOSTEP and WALTZ people! He said I showed promise. Naturally.
Anyway, Peppermist shows up to pick me up, and this is where we return to our story of Paris. I had told her about him, see, and she thought I had exaggerated, that he couldn’t have possibly been as crazy as I made him out to be. Oh, but she was about to find out herself…
See, McDonalds is lovely and open 24/7 on the weekends, which means french fries at 3am! Whoot! Of course we pulled up, and they were rebooting their system, so we had to wait 10 minutes in the drive through, and she says “Hey mom, there’s a guy walking up. Seriously. Right there. Your side.” I looked over and started laughing…
“THATS HIM! That’s the guy! Paris! I told you! Just lookit him!”
He was stylin in a purple pleather pimp jacket, scouring the ground for something… he crept around the car, and soon was by Peppermist’s open window. He said hi, and me, being drunk off my ass, was all “Hi Paris! How’s it goin?”
Which of course opened up the conversation. He asked where he met me, and soon (ish – took him a while) put the pieces together that I was Beth from Walmart. He asked if we smoked, and then congratulated us for not killing ourselves when we said no, and continued to scour the ground for cigarette butts and spare change. He offered to clean our windows, if we just had a quarter, or a hashbrown. We turned him down – who knew what hhe’d clean them with as he wasn’t carrying anything with him, after all – and he asked for a quarter. Said he really wanted nachos, but was shy about 35 cents or so, and the guy at holiday said the drive thru was the place for spare change because so much gets dropped and they don’t pick it up often. So Ria gave him a quarter from her ash tray (What else do non smokers use them for?! haha!) and he continued to chatter at us.
He asked if I liked his jacket, and I assured him it was totally pimpin, which made him happy. He said I looked fabulous, all decked out, and I mentioned that I had been stood up, at which he expressed the utmost shock – and said my boobs were fantastic and really out there, and the man must be stupid. Indeed!
He then asked if I liked to dance – and I assured him I loved to dance. He followed that up with this gem…
“And, ya know, I might rub up on ya a little bit. And if ya wanna kiss on me a little, that’d be cool too. My finacee won’t mind.. I saw her kissin up on a guy when she didn’t know I was watchin, and so I gotta little revenge in mind, so if ya down, ya can totally kiss up on me a bit…”
Me, I just told him to “Hold on to the dream, man. Just keep dreamin.” Cuz I’m awesome like that. Peppermist at this point was about to burst she was trying so hard not to laugh outright. He continued to tell us that he’s not broke, ya know, just knows that there’s loose change here and he can maybe score himself a burnt hashbrown or something. Made sure we knew he wasn’t on the streets – cuz he has a room at Main Street, that his sister is paying for. Though she’s mad at him, cuz she told him not to go to the bar, not to wear the purple coat, and not to shop at the Bargain Basement – and he’s done/doing all three. Oh, and he’ll have money soon, cuz his finacee is gonna set up all his gold bling, which is worth 14,000 bucks at least.
…poor Peppermist was about to burst at this point, and thankfully we were able to order and pull forward so we could gaffaw together. Paris followed us, offered respect to the mgr at the window when he was told no, and wandered off again. We asked the mgr if he was listening, and he said he’d heard the whole thing and laughed along with us as he handed us our fries and we went on our merry way – laughing hysterically..
So, all in all, it was a crappy night that turned amazing! From fun and dance and learning the two-step and waltz and making friends, AND the end of the night’s entertainment… Win. Win. Win.
And thus ends this chapter in the Paris Chronicles. Tune in next weekend, for more! Will he arrive at The Bow? Will he dance? Will he try to Rub Up On Me? Kiss On Me? Will his Fiancee show up with gold, or try to cut me? I can hardly wait to find out myself!
PS: Peppermist is extremely pleased with herself too – as she bought us 10 minutes of endless entertainment, for just a quarter. A bargain in any state!
(and, as the joke goes, that’s how i got my LAST husband. Hm. Addictive, ain’t I? Hehehe) So we moved the important stuff in first, and then his other stuff, and I rearranged the bedroom so we didn’t have to crawl over each other to go pee in the middle of the night (though there’s fun in that, too. hee) and we settled in. 