The 'Find' of the Week

This Week's 'Group of 8 Photo of the Week.'

Say What? What 'Find?'

Paris:– Thursday, 22. January 2004:– I don't need today's Le Parisien or tonight's TV–weather news to tell that the weather is as bad as it can get. Looking right out my window I can see the clouds settling on the Tour Montparnasse like a video–gas attack. Going, going, gone.

Every time it has disappeared before, it has always come back. It's the same thing today. Now you don't see it and now you do. But what is this wierd weather? Are we on some low Alp? Most of the time the clouds behave. They stay up there, wherever it is that clouds are, when they're sliding over Paris. These clouds today – they're in our face.

They must be so thick that they're stacked–down from up there. Not exactly a situation that can be shown on the two–dimensional TV–weather news. They should have shown umbrellas with windshield wipers.

So much for today. Tomorrow is expected to be cloudy, with Le Parisien giving it one half of a sunball half–hidden by a black cloud. Expect a temperature from six to nine. I dunno. If the coming Atlantic front moves a bit briskly, you'll need to get up early to half see some half– hearted sunbeams.

For Saturday's first–ever Chinese New Year parade on the Champs– Elysées, we are being offered partly sunny – again depending on a cooperating breeze from the Atlantic. High temperature is predicted to be nine too.

The forecast for Sunday – this is a real long–range prediction – calls for more signs of sunlight. The trade–off will be a temperature dump to six. After watching the parade all afternoon on Saturday, and staying up late to see the Tour Eiffel bathed in red light – maybe staying in and eating hot soup all day Sunday will be the day's prime activity. It's your call.

I only made it by a whisker. On the first try to get to the club meeting I found that my plastic's PIN number was missing from my memory. So I thought I'd chance it, until my memory remembered that I'd forgotten to bring Métro tickets.

You can be without one or the other, but not without both, so I had to go back to square–one. On the second try I notice the weather. On account of the low cloud the drizzle isn't 'falling,' it is drifting into my face from all directions. If I had an umbrella it would need windshield wipers.

My Métro train is aggressive. It's on the tail of one everybody thinks is the last one. Mine slams into the stations, and because everybody has squeezed into the preceding one, mine takes on its couple of passengers and slams its doors shut and bolts out of the station. Then it slams to a red–light stop. Then, bing! – and we're off and racing to the next station.

Arriving at Châtelet is a relief. I've gained back the time I've lost, but I started late anyway, so I scuttle through the drizzle–slick alleys to the Pont Neuf. There's nobody around, and the Quai du Louvre is deserted. Luckily, I brought Le Parisien to read.

Thus guaranteeing that I'll never even get it out of the bag. The club's café La Corona is next–to–empty, with a total of 3.5 people in its 'grande salle.' Within three minutes there are, counting myself, 6.5 people. Nancy Macklin arrives with Jim from San Diego, both already club members.

Jim from San Diego is not the 'half' person. When he joined the club last year he requested that his name and face be kept out of the club report. We settled for keeping the name confidential, because a 'face' in the 'Group Photo of the Week' is so small, not even a mother with a microscope would recognize an only child.

While the sitdown happens Jim says he wants to sit with his back to the wall. It is on account of an old family tradition he explains. Nothing bad has happened since his great–grandfather, but being careful can't hurt. Jim sits where he can watch all doors and windows.

Nancy asks if Marilee McClintock is really in Micronesia. Half the people say she is, and the other half want to know where she really is. Marilee, if you are reading this, please clear up your whereabouts. The Peace Corps Web site wouldn't tell me where you are.

Club member Joe Fitzgerald arrives next. Joe was present at five club meetings last year, some at the beginning of the year and at others in July. Jim and Joe agree that Joe should have brought an apartment in Paris two years ago, when the dollar was on top and prices here were not. The situation is reversed now.

Joe has rented an apartment here year–round for years. He says its light in the bathroom doesn't work anymore. It is in an old building, but a nearby Monoprix has lots of candles. Nancy and Joe are delighted to discover that they both live – or lived – in St. Louis.

Club member Eva Lee is the next to arrive. Eva does not seem to have her 'Bonjour Sally' sign with her this week. Everybody else present is delighted to learn that Eva lives most of the year in Tranquility, New Jersey.

I notice that Jim doesn't do the standard club handshake. He got a finger on his right hand wrecked – by a sloppy driver in San Diego – when his airbag exploded, protecting him from serious injury. He is going to have to take it into the shop for re–education.

On the subject of public transport, Joe says he walks to the club meetings. He says he also walks when he goes to Chicago. Apparently there are no walks of interest in St. Louis.

At this point in time – actually the exact time is unknown – new member Gary le la Rosa from South Los Angeles arrives, to, as he says, 'to cause trouble.' I give him a abbreviated version of his club 'rights.' Gary knows the club has 'no rules.' It is not a democracy – there are only 'rights,' and no 'rules' or 'gottas.'