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Day 102: Get Royally Screwed.


I knew this was going to happen. I knew it, I knew it, I knew it. Before leaving Paris in July, I decided to sublet my flat for the month of August and as my departure date out of Paris was getting closer so was my desperation to get someone in there. 

My first choice was Vienna, a male grad student from Switzerland who fit the perfect profile of a sublet: quiet, responsible and smart but unfortunately, he had to back out at the last minute leaving me to sublet to Katie, a party girl from Long Island who came to Paris to fulfill her dreams of becoming Brigitte Bardot. She claimed to be moving to France and needed a starter apartment while she looked for something more permanent. While she wasn't the exact fit for who I wanted to take my space while I was 3,000 miles away, I was desperate and thought, "what's the worse that could happen?". Ha. Ha. Ha. Famous last words... 

I settled her in, introduced her to some of my friends, took her out to dinner and gave her guest passes to my gym. In the history of ex-pats, she received the best welcome an American in Paris has ever gotten. 

Fast forward a few weeks later where I was in New York, having coffee with my mom when I received a message via Facebook from Katie confirming that she would be leaving a few days earlier and wanted to know what to do with the keys. I asked her to let me know what time she was leaving so I could arrange for Aurélien to pick them up and do a walk-through. A day went by, no response.Four days went by, no response. A week went by, no response. I emailed her again. Another day went by, still no response, four days went by, no response. Once again, I tried to email her back but this time, I was unable to respond. I was unable to respond because not only had she had deleted me but she had blocked me from Facebook. Shady. She was already paid up until August 30th and I had her deposit, so this sent me into a panic. What was the girl hiding? I called the local Long Island cell phone number that she gave me and she picked up. "Hello? Katie? This is Lisa from Paris." I said. The girl on the other end fumbled with her phone before hanging up on me. I called back. This time a young man answered, "Hello, may I please speak to Katie?" I asked, "This ain't her number no more." the crass voice on the other end responded. Not her number, my ass. "Oh, ok, well she changed her number in a matter of weeks and her carrier already issued the number out to a new customer? Highly unlikely." I bit back. I don't like being messed with. "Look lady, it ain't her number. You wastin' my time and if you call this numba again, I'll call the police for harassment, cunt!" he responded. Okay, now I was getting worried. What the hell did this girl do that she is going through great lengths to avoid me and having some Jersey Shore cast member threaten me and call me the ghastly c-word?

I did a google search using her name and voilà! was able to find her mother's address and phone number. Wanting to sound rational and sober, I decided to wait until the next morning. The following day, I had a nice conversation with her grandmother who informed me that Katie was back from Paris and had stepped out at the moment. Interesting. I left my phone number with the hopes that she would get back to me. 

That night, I had dinner with Simon and my grandparents and came home to find an email waiting for me from a Katie. It read:

"Hey, I heard that you called my great-aunt who I haven't seen since I was 5. She's crazy and doesn't know me. You shouldn't speak to her ever again. I was kicked out of your apartment and am now moving to California. My mother is getting evicted and everything is crazy. I left the keys in your apartment."

So my keys are left in my apartment in Paris which means my door is now unlocked, I'm in New York, she didn't bother to tell me, cut off communication from me and what I can assume is that the only reason that I am now hearing from her is because she was found and that I have access to her family. Again, what the hell did this girl do to my flat?!

Never in my wildest dreams did I think that a one month sublet would go so horribly wrong. A month? 4 weeks? That's nothing in 'rental time' but I guess it's enough time to do damage. I am still in New York and have to find a way to manage this before going back to Paris. I have no idea what had become of my flat and needless to say I am extremely concerned. I will keep you all posted... 

I'm biting my nails right now....a habit I kicked a few years ago. What is going on?


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