So we've been going out to clubs (discothèques as they're called here) or music venues a few times a week, but we always have to leave early to take the metro. The metro closes at 1 am on weekdays and 2 am on Friday and Saturday, so it can really cut a night short if you have to leave around 12:15 or 1:15 to make sure you can get home on time. What the Parisians do to get past this is stay out dancing until 5:30, when the metro re-opens.
On Friday, when our night was cut short, Vanessa and I decided to act like brave Parisians and promised to stay out until 5 on Saturday. We'd heard that some of the girls were going out to a techno club, but Vanessa thought she'd enjoy a club called Duplex her housemates had gone to better.
Saturday night we went on a cruise on the Seine, and afterward no one wanted to go to the club with us, so Vanessa and I headed over ourselves. Vanessa didn't know exactly where the place was, but her housemates had said that anyone on the street would know where it was. Sure enough, we asked several people for directions and they all knew where to find Duplex.
Now I usually feel very awkward at Parisian clubs because American girls tend to get dressed up for clubs while Parisians wear their normal clothes. So this time I'd decided just to wear my normal jeans-and-shirt combo to go out so I'd fit in better. Of course, we got to Duplex and everyone standing outside was wearing a dress and high heels. "Oh, I just remembered," Vanessa said, "My housemates said it was really hard to get in to."
We stood by watching people in line get in or get rejected while we were deciding what to do. We tentatively got in line, and two guys came up to us and asked if they could pretend to be with us so they could get in more easily. We got to the front of the line and claimed to be a group of four. The bouncer looked down at my shoes and said, "Sneakers ... No. Exit by here."
We went back to the Champs-Élysées to try to find a new place to go, but we didn't want to get stuck at some lame venue from 2 to 5. We decided to just get something to drink and call it a night. We got seated at a restaurant not realizing that it was 8 euros for a can of Coke ... we got up and left and found another restaurant that by this time was going to close in 15 minutes ...
We ended up at Quick, a French fast food chain, eating chicken wings and vanilla ice cream with lemon candy mixed in. So much for dancing the night away our last weekend in Paris. It was absolutely hilarious.
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