I touched down at Chucky de Gaulle airport and hop on the temporary internet to let my friend know that je suis arrivé in motherfucking frogtown. Also to jump on le petit Tinder, chyeah. I open it only long enough for it to locate me and initiate the viral spread of my steez. As an aside, the train ticketing machines are extremely unfriendly to non-euro visitors: they accept neither american credit cards nor euro bills despite the ~10 euro fare—and a change machine only accepts 5 or 10 euro notes. Anyways, once in the metro area I board the train in the wrong direction for my connection. Sweet. I eventually arrive slightly damp and very tired at my friend’s doorstep in the 5th arrondissement. Arrondissement is either French for go-fuck-yourself or neighborhood. Come to think of it, almost everything in French could be understood as “go fuck yourself”. But let’s not get into formal linguistics.