Grève d'enfer

Nothing pleases me more than waking up early to a notification from the RATP that ligne 13 is in total ruins. More so when nothing else is running at all.

You see, since the RER C is not running anywhere, my back up option of waiting for an eternity for 1 out of 10 trains was quickly dashed. Which in itself is not that great, but still better than the hell I went through.


You see, when ever ligne 13 is en panne, your ability to get on a train are severely limited to a non existant statistic. In this case, what it meant was that I had to travel entirely in the wrong direction to the end of the line, to travel back to where I started and continue to the other end of the line.

Simple really, but no, you see once I got on the train and managed a seat, I spent what could have been a hundred thousand years with some old dudes bollocks firmly in my personal space, he had not washed and this was evident. What was also evident was his penis, which he was rubbing down my arm.

If that wasn't enough, some passive agressive madame tried to fake passing out to get a seat, she clearly mistook me as somebody who hasn't been living in Paris long enough to know, if you ain't up to the ride, get off the train rule.

When it was clear that she wasn't getting what she wanted, a miracle of Jésus happened and she was up right and steaming. She never got a seat and quite frankly, she can go to hell for that.


The short of this dramatic tale, is that today was a nightmare even before I got to where I needed to. So thank you very much RATP, for making my day brighter.



Blogger since 2000 on LiveJournal and occasionally opens a new blog here and there, like a small town mayor opens fast food restaurants. Seeks world domination and ice cream.

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