The Gospel Truth

My Parisian Prostitute

February 29, 2012

Travel is one of the most broadening and educational of all endeavors.

My wife and I have been able to go to many unique and fascinating places over the last 25 years.

As would be fitting my personality, weird and odd things see  to hover over me like a lawyer smelling the blood in the water.

Below is a collection of thoughts and situations that I think you will find amusing, if not entertaining.

** One of the most difficult trips we ever went on was in the summer of 2001 when we traveled to Northern France.

It was an exhausting trip which culminated in our climbing each one of the 312 steps of Mon San Michel.

Our room in Paris was the worst room we had ever stayed in.

The carpet was filthy and it had bloodstains on it.

My wife made me wear my shoes to bed.

I expected to see a yellow police tag stuffed under the mattress.

Chalk outline of a body with yellow crime scene tape

Was the only thing missing.

My wife hated the city and the people in it were very unfriendly.

There was a guy from North Carolina, who was loud and boisterous.

He talked too much and his jokes were corny.  In other words, he was just like me.

People like me, hate people like me!

His funniest story was about a bumper sticker, which said, we should have picked our own damn cotton!

** Parisians are very rude.

Their motorists must get points to see how close they can come to killing you.

One motorist nearing impaled us on the bumper of his Peugeot.

As for service, I have had better luck in my local Post Office.

I guess my wife and I can never say, like Rick from Casablanca…we will always have Paris!!!

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Can't share their sentiments about Paris

The friendliest person I met was a middle-aged working woman, who reminded me of Mae West, just as her charms started to fade.

I was leading the pack of eight of us who had just finished the best meal we had in Paris, at a little Italian restaurant.

I had crossed the street and to my dismay, no body had followed me.

When I lead, nobody follows!

While they waited for the light, I looked around, enjoying the sights.

There was a very tall Parisian woman on roller blades that caught my eye.

The Parisians have a weekly skating event, where hundreds of skaters glide through a secret but predetermined route that changes each week.

I guess she was just practicing

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Getting ready for Pari Roller

Then out of the blue, came this Mae West look-alike.

She smiled at me and said something in French I did not understand.

I politely said Nooooooo!

Then she said, Parlez Vous, Francaise?

I answered, turning beat red, Noooooo!

I later figured out that what she had said was probably that great line from the movie, Moulin Rogue, Voulez vous coucher avez moi, ce soir?

This modestly translates to Would you like to sleep with me tonight?

This from the song by Christine Aquilera, Lady Marmalade with Lil’ Kim, May and Pink.

Friendliest person I met in Paris

The friendliest person and she’s a prostitute.  Only in Paris.

** I told my parish priest, not in the confessional because I had resisted the prostitute’s fading charms, but after Mass one Sunday and he asked me, being the liberal he was, Was it a man or woman?

** He really is a great priest.  He made me a real believer the first time I ever talked to him.

I had a file folder with some documents that he had to approve.

He stopped me ten yards away, telling me that he was leery of such folders.

What is it, he asked?

I said, a paternity suit.

He retorted.  Well that would be an improvement!

This had to be in 1986 or so, many years before the homosexual scandal rocked our church.

** We took a marvelous trip to Northern New England and Canada one summer.

While staying in the beautiful Chateau Frontenac Hotel in Quebec City, I noticed the ornate ceiling.

My research revealed that it was painted by Eliot Stein, a 19th century muralist, in honor of his sister Juliet who had died of tubercles as a young woman.

The Qubeckers called it the Sis Stein Ceiling.  (Hold the applause, please.)

Château Frontenac01.jpg

Go see the Sis-stein Ceiling

Later that day on the bus to Montreal, I tell this story to Jimmy our guide.

He is a very staid, quiet Mainer who had done a great job, hiding his upper New England accent.

When he hears this, he goes into a hissy fit, losing his control of the language, saying, enuf, enuff… while making what some would recognize as the safe sign…had he been an umpire.

The next day, while standing outside the hotel in Montreal, I accosted him and demonstrated what I called the Jimmy two-step.

Making the safe sign, I glided three steps to my right.

Then I glided six steps to my left.

As I was doing this, a car whizzed out of the parking garage, missing my leg by inches.

Sometimes story telling can be hazardous to one’s health.

On another trip we went swimming in the Mediterranean, from our yacht, Le Ponant.

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The water was warm

This prompted a boyhood friend, who had served in the Navy in the Med, to quip, did you get your tetanus shot?

You get all kind of guides when you travel on these tours.  Some are good, some great, and others, less than adequate.  And some are memorable.

Our first guide was a little Jewish gal from Las Vegas.

She would prepare her notes the night before in the hotel bars.

After a while, I playful referred to her as the Ditz.

I had been riding her unmercifully for her lack of historical knowledge.

But one day, she really got me.

I was reading about the travails of Joey Buttafucco.

Remember he’s the fellow whose young lover, Amy Fisher shot his wife in the face.

(Mary Jo finally shed her last name and re-married just last week.)

She obviously did not know who he was.

They must have been living in a cave some where.  The Ditz passes me and said, Who is Joey Buttafuoco, your cousin?

I was dumbfounded.  As they say, you had to be there.

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He's not my cousin!

But the Ditz was really great.

We were driving past Holy Cross, on the Massachusetts Parkway and she let me have the microphone for a few to tell people what I knew about the area.

I said Worcester had been destroyed by Indian attacks, three times, prior to 1701.

It was a shame that it was rebuilt a third time.

** When in Rome or Paris, you really have to be aware of pickpockets.

I heard of a man who kept his hands in his pockets every time he went outside.

One day he returned to find that his underwear had been stolen.

Man that guy must have been really good!

If anyone has gone to Rome, please tell me how many Spanish Steps there are.

I have personally counted them twice and it is either 132 or 133 steps.  I need to know this.

About author

After graduating from Holy Cross, Bill Borst earned an MA in Asian History from St. John's University and a Ph.D in American History from St. Louis University. (1972) A former New Yorker, he taught for many years in the St. Louis area, while also hosting a weekly radio show on WGNU from 1984-2006. He currently is a regular substitute for conservative Phyllis Schlafly on KSIV radio. (1320) He is the author of two books on social history, "Liberalism: Fatal Consequences," and "The Scorpion and the Frog: A Natural Conspiracy." He just retired as the Features editor of the Mindszenty Foundation Monthly Report. In his 11 years from 2003-2013 he wrote nearly 130 essays on Catholic culture and world affairs. Many in St. Louis also know him as the "Baseball Professor," because of a course that he offered at Maryville College from 1973-74. It was arguably the first fully-accredited baseball history course in the Midwest.The author of several short books on the old St. Louis Browns, he started the St. Louis Browns Historical Society in 1984. In 2009 his first two plays were produced on the local stage. "The Last Memory of an Ol' Brownie Fan," ran six performances at the Sound Stage in Crestwood and "A Perfect Choice" ran for two performances at the Rigali Center Theater in Shrewsberry. His third play, "A Moment of Grace," ran six performances at DeSmet High School in January of 2011with First Run Theater in January of 2011. He is currently working on a 4th play, "A Family Way," which is a comedy about a happy dysfunctional family. He can reached at