Fezzik In Paris

Two Americans, three cats, and too many places named "de Gaulle"

I should know by now that when I am trying to travel somewhere faster (for purposes of this example, let’s say work) due to some mitigating circumstance (because it’s pouring), I should just stick with the original plan.

Normally, one would think that taking a taxi from l’hopital americain would be painless; it’s all of about 10 minutes from the main cab stand in La défense, and while I have been corrected almost every time that I state my destination (CNIT is nominally k’nee, though that changes to k’neeT depending on the cabbie, so I have made it a habit of swallowing the back half of that t), I hopped in the one cab that had no idea where CNIT was.

Oh, and he didn’t really know the La défense area.

I was welcome, however, to give him directions.

It was suggested that I take another cab, however, when I explained that I did not really know the road system in La défense (translating my mental maps to English is difficult enough; my French is certainly not up to the task).

Flummoxed, I hopped in the next cab (I should have just taken the bus back to Porte Maillot). I then had to explain how the other cabbie didn’t know where CNIT was, and that I don’t know the roads well enough to navigate. The first cabbie, apparently a pal, got out of his car and groused at the new cabbie about the fact that I didn’t have a street address for fucking CNIT, the location for which everyone (even the dumbass Über drivers) knows, and which was in La défense before it was La défense (thank you Cité de l’architecture et du patrimoine).

Pulling away, I tried CNIT both ways, not expecting to be corrected once more: snit.

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