I turned the street corner as fast as I could, dodging an old lady who stood in the middle of the sidewalk, struggling to get a hold of some of her packages. For a short second I thought about helping her, but catching the glimpse of my pursuer in the corner of my eye inspired thoughts of spending some months in a white, cement-block room with an androgynous woman 25 years my senior and listening to her recite Anne Sexton’s poetry and therefore, I changed my mind on assisting the little lady and continued my flee from the law.
Because in my hand was a bag of goodies I’d stolen from a cute little boutique on a cute little side street in cute little Paris and the beautiful policeman, dressed in a fancypants suit with a skinny tie, was hot on my trail. I caught up to my gal pals, who’d also risked trading their cushy lives for their jail-cell counterparts, and we dashed into our hotel and up the back stairs.
Suddenly the policeman was there. Right behind us. We cut in front of a housekeeping entourage and made it safely to our room, telling Mr. Maid we didn’t want cleaning services and hoping he’d understand our out-of-breath English. He insisted on refreshing our towels, but after a quick argument of “no no no no no but thanks so much”, we slammed the door in his face just as our finely-dressed man of the law came running down the hall. He passed our room. We let out a sigh of relief.
Considering ourselves free, we lounged in plush white robes, watched French television, and discussed important topics like music, the social scene, and living off thrifted wares so our budgets can afford a monthly gym membership.
My friends, Mindy Kaling and a funny brunette whose name I don’t remember, found me witty and clever and wanted to keep me forever. They gave me a makeover, because dressing like a came from Gap’s latest lookbook isn’t club-appropriate attire. We went to a new club that night to let out some steam. We moved around on the dance floor, forgetting about the gorgeous man who chased us all around town. Some guy offered to buy us all drinks at the hotel bar next door. He looked disappointed when we agreed to a night of club sodas and board games. We told him to scram when he tried a second time. He was confused, but he left when he saw us making eyes at the club bouncers. He wet his pants on his way out.
I don’t remember anything else about that night. Because when I woke up, I was in my twin-sized bed in Colorado and I realized I’ve never been to Paris or run from the law or offered to play board games with man I met in a club.
Guys and gals, that was a crazy dream. Mindy Kaling, should you ever need someone to help you steal things and run from the law, I’m your girl.