Non French Speaking Narcoleptic nymphomania

"...what is in question here is an experience which, at its furthest reaches, is perhaps no less adventurous, perilous, nocturnal, and pathetic than the experience of madness itself..." Cogito and the History of Madness Jacques Derrida (Trans. Alan Bass)

Later I would realize that the reason why I threw on my clothes, aside from realizing that I had to run back to the hotel so they wouldn't think I was abducted again, was rage. After all, when Sebastian was walking around the hallway literally bareassed, I hadn't, even in my stoned, drunk, and disoriented state, made a big deal about it. Yet here he had made a show of turning away. It wasn't as if I was making an offer. I was just, well, out of it, as anyone in that condition might be.

A female friend of mine responded to my story by saying "But you were a naked woman as opposed to a man."First of all, as Bill Hicks would point naked women have historically been entertainment for naked men for hundreds of years, but also female nudity has proliferated art, film, and TV, while male nudity, when it occurs, is much more conspicuous. If anything, I should reacted with more shock to his nudity than vice versa. But really beyond that, am I that horrifying naked? (Honestly, writing this, the dream quality of that memory, I still can't believe it really happened.I keep wondering, did it really happen? Really? Could it have been a folle a deux? Some sort of pot induced hysteria?) Couldn't we have laughed it off, as I laughed off Sebastian with nothing but a throw pillow?

I tried to wake up Henri, but he was out cold, as one would expect, so I was going to merely slip out the door and go back to the hotel. Having received a graduate degree from a reputable university, I am reasonable sure of my ability to OPEN DOORS. This was before I came across the French, who have apparently not mastered the fine art of making door knobs. What confronted me was a lever and system of bolts, which I could not in my state figure out. I'm sure I could have figured it out had I not been handicapped by still being drunk and stoned and now pissed off and embarrassed on top of it. I just wanted to get out.NOW. I went back to Henri, trying to rouse him, but to no avail. So I had go to Sebastian and try to wake him and explain to him what I needed. He was sleeping on the couch now. He opened to the door for me and I said thank you. Perhaps I should have been more polite. Given the whole two kiss good-bye thing. Explained I would call later. Perhaps my flight was taken as a guilty admission of an attempted seduction. All it really was a desire to be gone from one place and in another where I could sleep safely without interruption as quickly as possible. To simply put an end to the whole Bacchic episode and return to "normal" functioning (ie no sex on the grand piano, no heroic consumption of wine, no confusion about what is and is not actually happening).

Sitting as reception was the same concierge who had been on the night before. She gave me the key with a seeming wink and a smile taking in my pale sleep deprived state. I went to my room and slept until four reaffirming the staff's conviction that I was a non French speaking narcoleptic nymphomaniac, which, let's be honest, isn't so far from the truth. I got up slowly, showering and packing and half waiting for a phone call from Henri.

Tomorrow: My Last Night in Paris-the thrilling conclusion.