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Day 185: Become a Mafioso.

A few weeks ago, Aurélien and I were having dinner with his best friend Matthieu and his girlfriend Anne-Laure and the topic of winter came up. They were complaining about how they weren't looking forward to the freezing season that lies before us all. After experiencing three winters in Paris and coming from New York where winters are bitter, icy, cruel and the wind blasts you in the face, forcing icicle tears, I'm not fearing the upcoming Parisian winter. At all. Winters in Paris are like winters in Seattle; cold, wet, gloomy yet manageable.

This conversation reminded me that I still had things left at Monsieur Flâneur's apartment. Oy vey, he has my snow boots, scarves, hats and doudoune (my puffy coat). These were things that I didn't need back in April when I was moving out of our apartment as the trees were irritatingly blooming their buds and summer kicked off earlier than usual. It's now November; the heat is on full and if this winter echoes last winter than I will need these frosty accouterments in approximately 3.5 weeks.

I made the mistake of bringing this up over dinner. I explained that I didn't want to see MF or subject my innocent friends to the long overdue 'collecting of the things' exercise and figured that the best person to do the job would be Eric, my uncle's driver. I know how weird and shady that sounds but allow me to explain; my uncle, who works in the food business comes to Paris often and his driver who has become a friend of mine and knows MF, would be more than happy to help me pick up my things.

Aurélien and Matthieu were clearly not listening to me and instead of hearing me say that 'my uncle's driver Eric who is in Paris' they heard 'my Italian uncle Richie who is in Paris' which then snowballed into a mafia scene of "Uncle Richie" showing up at MF's flat, speaking like The Godfather and holding out a gun saying "Gimme the puffy coat, gimme the puffy coat!" while scratching his chin before blowing him away with an AK-47.

The two of them entertained themselves for 20 minutes with this fabricated mafia scene that included gunshots, blood, dead ex-fiancés and the feathers of my puffy coat raining down MF's apartment in Oberkampf like glitter at Studio 54. Good Lord! Anne-Laure and I left them to their Coppola trilogy fantasy and went into the kitchen to make coffee. 

Apparently, their story continues and has moved from the big screen to HBO: this is what I found in my e-mail inbox this morning from the two of them:



Happy Monday mes amis!

4 comments:

  1. Bet it made you laugh though. Sounds like the crazy evening we would have.

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  2. HAHAHA I love this story!!

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  3. @Kristin - Because all Italian American girls have mafioso uncles! : P

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