So, needless to say, a huge incentive for me to come to France (drinking legally) was magnified when dear Alejandro told me that not only could I buy alcohol, but I could drink it. Outdoors. Without a cup. Wherever I wanted. And, as Ms. Hilary Walker and her town of Savannah Georgia know from my trip there last spring break, drinking outdoors while exploring is one of my Top 5 Favorite Activities of All Time.
Day #1: Abby and I meet, discover our mutual love of non-menthol tobacco products, go get lunch and have wine. Then we grocery shop and pick out the cheapest bottle of red wine we can find (me bringing the bottle opener from home was a good idea!) and go drink it on the roof of the Foyer. While this is thrilling, I have bought wine before at home, even without the fakest of fake IDs. The real joy comes on day #2.
Day #2: Exploring further, more grocery stores! And, not unlike my parents' home state of Nebraska, the French sell liquor in grocery stores. Behind the cash register, on the shelf, you grab it, clutch it cheerfully, pay (much lower liquor tax), and go outside and jump up and down. My first purchase: a little flask-like bottle of Label 5 whiskey. Cheap, burns your lips, delicious. I wanted to cry I was so unbelievably happy.
To test out Alejandro's incredible proclamation, I wander into Jardin Lux with my whiskey, take a tentative sip in front of the first uniformed person I see. They don't even look at me! Part of me wants to start yelling "HEY I'M DRINKING LIQUOR OUT OF A GLASS CONTAINER IN PUBLIC AND I'M UNDER 21 ARREST ME" but first of all, they wouldn't know what I was talking about (English) and 2nd, they don't give a shit. There are immigrants to harass, after all.
Day #3: One begins to abuse the privilege of buying alcohol by going out to "bars." This is a concept I never really understand, for at bars, you are paying much more for the amount of space that you physically take up at the bar and not your actual beverage. In France especially, wouldn't you just rather take up public space and drink your own alcohol purchased from NOT AN ALPHABET STORE BUT A GROCERY STORE??? Since you can drink outside, it saves you, to put it bluntly, a fucking shitton of money. Bars will try to charge you 6 Euros for 50cl of beer. Not happening.
Day #10: You begin to realize that every other human wants to go to bars, and you understand, since maybe they didn't have a fake ID at age 17 like some people (ahem) and have never even been to a bar. You'd like to go out too. So what's the cheapest way to do this? The joys of being an American lady are embraced by the European man: the purse. Put a little bottle of whiskey in your purse, order a Coke or nothing, go to the bathroom and make a mixed drink, or just take discreet pulls from your stash in the corner of the bar. Nothing could be easier. And the Belgian boys will inevitably buy you a drink anyway.
Day #Nuit Blanche:
Talking with fellow programmers who also enjoyed Nuit Blanche, many of them were aghast at my kahones in just walking down the street with a huge bottle of whiskey. "Don't you know you can't drink in public spaces here?" I'll believe that shit when a cop stops me for drinking on the street, in the police station, on the metro, on the Seine, in the garden. I think 2 things when confronted with this type of behavior: #1 what fucking country do you think we're in? And #2 your family must be loaded since you went to bars all night for kicks. Then I think the third thing: it's been 6 weeks and you have yet to grow a pair and realize you're in Paris. Stop worrying all of the time. Stress shortens your life. And wine makes it better.
Day #Today:
French class is tedious, so I go to the nearest grocery store and scoop a Heineken tall boy for less than 2 Euros at about 2:30 this afternoon (about the price of a Coke Light bottle, and frankly, much more entertaining) and proceed to people-watch in the square next to my school building, drinking my delicious and refreshing Heineken and listening to dance music.
And not only are you allowed to drink, but you are, in fact, encouraged to as well. Wine shop employees enthusiastically show you the myriad French reds, imported whites. Grocery store clerks reach to the highest shelf and hand you your alcohol with a knowing and wide smile. Yes, the French truly are backwards and stupid, to let people drink alcohol in a culture that doesn't giant stigmas above the stores where they go to buy it, nor do they hand out tickets for sitting outside with one's friends, laughing after a long day of school or work, winding down with a bottle of wine. They're really confused as to what's important, obviously. Just like their seafood isn't fresh.
HINT: It is.
A bientot!
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