Nik and I were out at La Villette the other day and we came upon the Argonaut exhibit, a french Cold War era submarine. We wanted to check it out, but our friend here seemed uniquely invested in wrenching our plans. Couldn't quite figure out what the problem was at first, but boy did he wax large with the bullshit non-accomodational pretexts.
First, it is too tight inside. Also, the baby is not tall enough (huh?). And what's more, you need a special ticket for entry. This last piece was true enough, but there was a self-operated billet machine standing directly in front of us. Same machine I'd used an hour earlier to buy Nik's entry to La Cite Des Enfants indoor playground. So I said I'd purchase our ticket right here, no problem.
"Ah, but your card is no good at this particular machine. It has not the special 'Bancard Francaise' chip in it."
That was creative, I must admit. Perhaps he didn't feel like keeping an eye on our poucette, le Maclaren Spitfire. Or perhaps the real reason he didn't let us in is, well, because he's a dick. A monumental dick, at that- a French civil servant dick. In fact, he probably grew up in Dickbourg sur Seine, and attended L'ecole Pour Tout
Petites Dicks. Maybe even received a scholarship to L'Universite du Dicks Redoutables.And then he scored this gig. Which puts him in front of thousands of curiosity seekers every week; so many opportunities to say, "NON!"
Dick.
Yeah, we went back to the main office and bought our tickets there.
And we saw the Argonaut, too. It's a submarine. It was ok.
But the guy at the door's a friggin' dick.
1 comment:
Hilarious.
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