On my first or second evening in the French capital, I remember a brief encounter with a beautiful girl. I was in a Métro subway station waiting for my train. (I do not recall the name of the station, and it’s not featured among the images shared in this article, unfortunately). When the train going in the opposite direction arrived, I noticed its design was very futuristic with huge windows so you could see all the passengers sitting or standing within it. It was as though all the train’s carriages were transparent. Through the window, two women were seated right across from where I stood, directly in my line of sight.
The one who caught my eye was either lip-synching or singing a song she clearly loved. She was jamming like a pop star on stage. She had the most beautiful, long, flowing hair. She was gorgeous. Her friend glanced at her with a befuddled (yet endearing) expression, and smiled at me with an awkward look that translated to say, “OK, my friend is crazy!”
I saw them both and laughed, and then our eyes met, and she knew I was laughing at her rocking out. She laughed, flashed me a big smile, and then continued to sing and dance from her seat, completely unembarrassed. While she grooved, she looked at me again, and winked. I decided to entertain her by dancing on the platform of the subway (as people walked around me) so she would know I was enjoying her performance. Music was playing through my iPod, so it wasn’t an effort. Granted, I was wearing sandals and my backpack was full of camera gear, but I didn’t care. I was momentarily entranced by this girl.
The whole exchange was probably for two minutes, and then the train started to move. As the ladies waved at me as they departed, I waved back. My temporary crush blew me a kiss as the train disappeared through the tunnel. It was then, I thought (and knew), “Alright. I’m in love with Paris.”