Only in Paris

This weekend, as Chris and I were walking about Paris, two cultural events stopped us dead in our tracks - literally.

Friday night, as we made our way back from dinner with Semi and his partner Lorenzo (yes, we made it to round two), we saw a sight unlike any we've ever seen.

Just before the clock struck midnight, a tidal wave of rollerbladers made their way through L'Opera and Rue St. Honoré. Apparently, every Friday night beginning around 10:00 p.m., thousands meet to rollerblade freely through the streets of Paris. From the whizzing to the wobbly, they spread their wings and fly over cobbled streets for more than two hours. We decided it's time to dust off the wheels.

Then, on Saturday, we ironically stumbled across the Techno Parade as we headed to Habitat to buy a desk for my dj equipment. With curtain rods and umbrellas in hand, we heard in the distance a roaring thunder of bass. "It's the Techno Parade," Chris stated. Thinking he was joking, I continued walking toward the beats like a moth to a flame. Within 500 feet we found ourselves immersed in an outdoor rave.

The first of many floats passed us by complete with fluorescent harijuka girls. With every beat, wet club kids jumped up and down while grasping red bulls in one hand and cigarettes in the other. Djs acting as pied pipers lead shirtless teenagers through the wet streets as cross dressing clowns on stilts followed close behind. "Where is the camera when I need it," I thought.

We stood in amazement for more than 20 minutes as the floats passed us by. Yes, it was a bit obnoxious. But having been to gay events similar in nature and understanding the power of relentless beats, there was something calming about the free-spirited spectacle. "Good for them," I thought. "Everyone should have a good time now and then." And with a quick adjustment of our curtain rods, we continued our exciting day of shopping.