THE DAHLIN EFFECT part deux
THE PARIS NIGHTMARE
We apologize for interrupting the life of 14-year-old Markie D to bring you this True life adventure of Epic proportion (part 2.. continued from last time ).So just after the car-crash I made peace in the village by dancing with the crazy guy.
Crazy Guy 
I had to show them the moves of the dancing Azungu (the white guy) from Venice. 
Sometimes - I think- you think - I make this stuff up.. BUT IT'S TRUE!
and I played music with the kids
and so "The Dahlin Effect" is not just one of trouble that follows us around from VENICE around the world like this terrible car crash shown above - BUT it is also the ability to take a bad situation and to turn it into a party - just add Markie D and music...
In the words of Steve Miller... "Come on and Dance" Just like King David did before the Lord.
Regarding Paris... remember this - all of those ads you see on the internet... not all of the options on those hotel websites turn out as promised... "all that glitters is not gold"
We needed a last minute reservation because of the "Chunnel" issues (the English Channel Tunnel) taking place at the time in regards to the immigration crisis.
I had flown into Heathrow (London) from Malawi through Johannesburg South Africa and met Kerry there. Knowing there might be delays in the Chunnel we booked a flight to Paris a day early.
On the internet - the pictures of the hotel of the rooms and the price looked really good... 50% OFF... I WIN! Taking the taxi from the airport, we arrived after 11:00 at night to something that looked more like this... only darker and that smelled of smoke because of the scary dudes in the lobby.
Anyway, I promised you a story that involved the French police and the American Embassy.
Upon arriving, the taxi-driver who earlier said he could take our debit card (that had been set up with a chip specifically for international travel with France on the itinerary)...NOW said we owed him Euros. We only had our debit card and American Money and $2000 in Kwacha (Malawi money worth about $4.00 American).
He tried to use our card and it didn't work for some reason. DILEMMA - how do we get out of this jam? Kerry goes into the hotel looking for someone who can speak English - the nice receptionist comes out to our rescue and says he'll pay the taxi bill from his till as long as we book the room and can add it to our hotel charges. Very grateful... we have no option, but to accept his generous offer. YEAH - Jubilation I felt like I was back on the top of Mount Soché
I was with my bride of 33 years and now everything was fine and good in the world.
Then - UGHHHHHHH... we get inside and my card didn't work - I just fixed this with Wells Fargo while at Heathrow Airport in London.
There shouldn't be a problem... nothing can go wrong... go wrong... go wrong... unless of course it does!
He swiped my card 4 times... my phone is running low on battery - because of all the flight changes and online hotel reservations... etc ...etc.
I don't have enough battery power left to call Wells Fargo and scream at them. SO we dig through our luggage, find our Europe-power-adapters and converters and plug into an outlet twenty-some feet away from the front desk where Kerry stands with the "very nice receptionist" (you should see the sarcasm dripping off my face as I type those words).
Let me put it this way - he seemed nice at the time.
Let me put it this way - he seemed nice at the time.
With my face near the carpeted stairs tethered to my USB adapter I begin in a very nice and calm (I try) conversation with Wells Fargo Fraud Department. I need them to activate my card in France... They assure me that France was on my travel itinerary all the time and that the card works...
I haven't slept in about 60 hours and I am trying not to scream at the supervisor at Well Fargo... "I'm here in a hotel. I'm watching the guy swipe my card and it's not working. MAKE IT WORK NOW!"
"Sir, your card works"
"SIR, I beg to differ, my card is not working."
Hotel guy tries my wife card...4 X's FOUR TIMES... it doesn't work. Now past midnight - 61, 62 hours of no sleep. Sleep is all I want to do right now. I tell The Wells Fargo guy that I'm not letting him off the phone until I get this resolved. "Midnight in Paris"
30 minutes into this... bent over.. necked craned...tired....He tells me that my card is working... I ask, "How long does it take until you see something on his computer screen when a customer swipes a debit card?"
"10 seconds" he replies. "If someone swipes your card it will show up here on my screen in 10 seconds."
"Then why isn't it showing up" I protested... as the "nice receptionist" swipes my card again.
Nothing.
I make a deal with the receptionist fellow. I pull my hidden travel passport and money holder out from under my shirt. I pull out American cash and tell him I will overpay in American money that he can hold my money until morning as a security deposit and then I will go to ATM and get Euros and pay him and he can give my money back.
We strike a deal. My over-payment includes the money for the taxi. He looks up the exchange rate and tells me how much American money I need to give him to hold until we clear every thing up in the morning.
By this point I really don't care about the dark-eyed thugs who see me pull out my wad of cash. I pay what he wants, and tuck the passport-holder back under my shirt - knowing the I just showed all of this to the sinister looking dudes smoking in the corner and eating Pizza at midnight. Even in my deliriously, drowsy-state I felt like this was a mistake in my gut. But, oh well, we're in Paris - the city of romance - what could happen?
We get off on the third floor - a dark corridor - and after 63 hours... after 1:00 am, we finally crash!
Oh, did I forget to tell you that even in my sleep-depraved state I asked the guy to type up a letter saying that I overpaid him in American cash to be held on deposit for the room. Oh and did I say that I made him make a copy and made both of us sign - Both Copies...this just isn't like me - BUT I DID!
Weird! Right? (Upon retelling this story I had people shocked in disbelief say, "That was the Holy Spirit"
About an hour and a half later our phone began ringing... ANNOYING! I rose from the bed like a Zombie and answered the phone... EXCEPT no one was there - ONLY static...
3 X's THREE TIMES.. this happened.. static every time.... on the forth time, I leave the phone off the hook... I NEEDED SLEEP - WE BOTH NEEDED SLEEP!
Then our door handle began to shake... I'm practically dead... Kerry elbows me...
I jump up in my chonies.... adrenaline pumping... with all the superpowers I had when I was a kid having to fight off the hordes of hippies of ill-intent... and grab the handle and am fighting against someone who is trying to push the door open...
Do I need to rehearse everything that is going through my brain?
1) A hotel that is not in the best part of town - (don't judge me - couldn't tell from the picture).
2) A dark - unlit corridor
3) Turkish mafia - men with dark circles under their eyes - smoking in the lobby
4) A card that "Doesn't" work - so said the "nice" receptionist.
5) A card that Wells Fargo assured me "worked" and the tracking software to tell within 10 seconds whether it's been swiped...or not.
6) I had flashed wads of American money to everyone in the lobby.
7) Kerry had told him our sad story of how we were supposed to be in England... (let me draw this one out for you ... NO ONE knows were in FRANCE!)
8) A phone that rings and there is only static...one the other end... (let me draw this one out - it reminded me of the horror flick "When a Stranger Calls"
LET ME PUT IT THIS WAY - I was not dancing... and this had to be "The Dahlin EFFECT"
Oh and did I tell you... NUMBER NINE ... ("neuf" in French) THERE WAS NO SECURITY LATCH ON THE DOOR!
The receptionist (and who-ever-else) had our key in the door and was trying to get into our room at 3:53 in the morning.
ADRENALINE - as a matter of fact, it is pumping now through my veins as I write this story...
Someone was going to die and it wasn't me... I actually felt sorry for who-ever-it-was that was trying to break into our room... I could visualize my picture on the front of some French newspaper with blood all over my hands standing over three dead bodies...
As I fought to keep this guy (who was pushing on our door to get in) - I told my frightened wife, Kerry to find me some weapon I could fight this guy or these guys off with... she found a small stool that I was now holding in a death grip as I screamed at the guy telling him I would not let him in... and that he had better be prepared to die for what-ever-it-was that was so important that he had to get in at 4:00 am in the morning... I have to admit - I WAS FREAKED... as I fought to keep the door closed with my hand tightly wrapped around the tiny round-lock-lever-thingy he turning the other direction with the key in order to get into the room.
HELLO.... We're in France - and couldn't even call the police if we had the number... I don't know their 911 and don't the country code...
My ribs hurt... I'm breathing to hard... I need to stop - seriously... Until next time.
The only thing that was wonderful about this"Terrible, Wonderful, No Good, Rotten, Horrible" first night in Paris was that I got to meet my wife after being out in the bush in Africa after three weeks... WHERE - I happened to feel perfectly safe in the Warm Heart of Africa...
Meanwhile, I feel like the babysitter with the stranger in the house...
Oh, by the Way - did I tell you this is TRUE...
Picture credits... me; Poster Wikipedia; Pycho Wikipedia; Hotel Balladins - Booking.com
