underground raves and riot police.

last night romain and a few friends took me, katy, and tara to a secret party, in a random, secluded building an hour outside of paris. the party was called "bloody party", which is a play on words that i dont quite get. i think its a french thing. in order to gain access to the party, one was required to buy a 10 euro ticket in advance, and bring a bottle of any hard liquor to the door. the bottle of liquor would then be surrendered to the bartender, and put into a big communal pot. mixers were supplied, and drinks were to be, purportedly, endless. but, as this post will soon show, nothing at this party was as it was planned to be.

romain came over at eight, at the same time as tara. his friends, gary and arnold, quickly followed. after multiple trips to the monoprix, we drank at our place for about an hour, before heading to the rer to meet up with some more people. paris is divided into two zones, which are traversed by both the metro and the rer. the areas outside of paris are accessible only by the rer, and are divided into three more zones. the center of paris is zone one, then zone two, continuing in that pattern through zone five. the party was at the very far end of zone five. it took us two hours to get to it, between transferring and waiting for trains. we spent half an hour searching for the place, as the "venue" had only been announced a few hours before. luckily, romain's iphone has gps, and we were able to finally find it. it was pouring rain, i was huddled in my hood, when we stumbled upon the gate. i was greeted by a panneau, with french words i did not recognize. the chainlink fence was reminiscent of an american junkyard, as was the long walkway leading into the darkness. i was immediately apprehensive. i followed the french leaders, only to be lead into a large queue. i was surprised, but not shocked. i had only waited in a queue once for a party, and that had been nowhere near as big as this. i quickly realized, upon being let inside, that this was not a party, but rather an underground rave.

from the outside, the building looked like a house. there were steps leading to the underground entrance, where a burly black man was stationed ominously, protecting the scantily-clad lady who was checking tickets and collecting alcohol. we waited in the queue for what seemed like hours, me growing ever more impatient as the rain poured down and romain was nowhere to be seen. he had left  to go inside, and set up for his photography. his rapidly spoken french explaining that had been lost to me, however, and i felt i was doing the dirty work. eventually, he returned and we made it inside.

the coat check was a disaster. in france, one is required to check coats and bags before entering the club or party. thus the coat check is usually in the entryway, in a small room that can be patrolled by bouncers, who will not let you into the party if you have a purse or coat. the ridiculous thing about that, however, is that you have to pay to check your coat. i feel, that if its compulsory, it should be free. i, however, have no say in the matter. tara, katy, and i had luckily decided to only bring one bag so we shoved our scarves and gloves into the purse and checked out three coats. it was nine euro to check everything total, but luckily, the coat check man was decidedly stoned, and returned our ten euro to us, plus the one euro he had grabbed as change. this time, we were paid to check our coats. the coat check had run out of paper, and out of tape, and i could tell the stress was already wearing on the staff. the girl behind the counter looked frazzled, and frantic as she searched for another stylo or crayon, anything to write with. i gave them a pencil and the extra paper i had in the bottom of my purse, before proceeding into the party.

the house, which has seemed so small outside, quickly transformed. i had remarked upon the steel doors, and wondered what kind of house had such heavy, metal double doors. it quickly became apparent that this was not a house. we are still unsure of what exactly it was, but there is no way anybody could have lived there. it consisted of two huge rooms, one room on each floor. there were no walls, simply columns supporting the ceiling. the floor was concrete, no trace of tile or style. one half of the room was a makeshift dance floor, with a dj sat in one corner. the other half of the room was devoted to the bar, which was staffed by four people scrambling to take orders and pour drinks. the table was covered in white, bulk, store-brand juices, the floor turned white by the empty cartons, discarded carelessly in the rush. the back of the wall was lined with bottle after bottle of booze, as every single person who had entered had brought and given one. upon reaching the bar, a cup with more vodka than orange juice was thrust roughly into my hand, and a boy gruffly yelled, "gardez votre verre!" [keep your cup] the night had barely started, and already they were running out of cups. as the night went on, and people, predictably, lost their cups, the mood in the crowd changed. people were being denied alcohol, which is never acceptable when endless free drinks are promised.

i spent the first part of the night, fending off unwanted advances on the dance floor and trying to calm a drunk, jealous, and over zealously protective romain down. romain is from the south of france, where kind, overly-emotional men are bred. the party, however, was populated by parisiens. the thing about parisiens is this: they are predators. no other word describes them as well as that. and american woman, according to the stereotypes, are the perfect, easiest prey. word spread like wildfire that there were americans, we were the only non-french speaking people in the entire party. it was an underground rave, known only to a specific part of french sub-culture. so people began coming up to us, asking us if we were the americans. regardless of our status as "americans", we were women and that fact alone makes us vulnerable. the second you stepped onto the dance floor, even if all you wanted to do was bounce and fist-pump, four men would have circled you in a matter of an instant and began humping, so sure in their belief that because you existed, you would have sex with them. there was no way around it, and no way to fend it off.

i do not enjoy dancing. at all. but katy and tara do, and i wanted to stay with them. so, i attempted to dance by myself, and when things got too heavy, i would run and try to find romain. romain was off, in the beginning, doing his job and taking pictures. he was only mildly jealous/upset, and content to take pictures until one specific moment. we were speaking, and a boy i had never even seen before, came up behind me, spun me around, and started kissing me. he wouldnt let go until romain had pried him off. after that moment, romain stuck by my side through the whole night, handing off his camera to a friend and neglecting his job. romain and i went upstairs, where the toilets were and where the atmosphere was decidedly more calm. we stayed on the smoking floor, him chain-smoking his entire pack of cigarettes and dancing to the upstairs dj.

katy and tara, however, remained downstairs. i am unsure of what happened, but i have gathered that it was a mix of dancing, drinking straight vodka out of plastic cups, and making out on chairs.

the night started dragging, and i began to get sick. because of my stomach, i usually throw up at least once whenever i drink. not because i am drunk, but because of my diet. the french diet is meat and carb heavy, which i simply cannot digest. as a result, i am nauseous all day, every day. for the most part, when sober, i can control the need to throw up and stop myself. when i drink, however, all bets are off as my self-control is almost non-existant. this was my first time being legitimately drunk with romain, and he simply could not understand that being sick is common place for me. so after throwing up off the balcony, he ushered me outside. we found tara and katy, and began to leave.

unfortunately, everybody had the same idea as we did. it was seven o'clock in the morning, the party had been going since eleven. the crowd, consisting of multiple hundreds of drunk people, was ready to peace. people started flooding into the tiny entrance room, where the coat check was. only remember the problems the staff had been having all night? how unprepared they were for their jobs? this moment was no different. the weather outside was rainy and freezing, each person desperately wanted their coats. we all went to the coat check at once, and the staff couldnt handle it. romain ushered me outside while katy and tara waited for the coats. i sat spinning on the curb, until i realized katy had been gone for almost half an hour. freezing and sick, i climbed down the stairs to check on my roommate. what i found sobered me instantly. tara and katy were extremely upset, pushed up against each other while the crowd of waiting boys touched them inappropriately. i told them they could go outside, that i would take over waiting. after ten minutes of waiting, and no coats had been produced for anyone, the mood of the crowd was taking a decided turn for the worst. the agitated bouncers began yelling and shoving against the crowd, forcing more than half the people outside into the rain, without their coats. i managed to stay inside the tiny room, with the tickets, to try to get the coats for me and my friends. i was waiting patiently against a wall, trying to show how calm i was so they wouldnt kick me out, when all hell broke loose.

i was telling the bouncer "je suis calme, je reste ici" [i'm calm, i'll just stay here] so he wouldnt force me out, when the police arrived. they stormed into the tiny room with brilliant force and quickly, efficiently, petitioned off the coat check. they shut the big steel warehouse doors, sealing the rest of the people, hundreds of people who had been trying to get into the coat check room, inside the building. then they shut the door opposite, sealing everybody who had been pushed out by the bouncers outside and me, plus a few others, inside the coat check room. my friends and romain were now stuck outside. i was stuck inside the room, trying to stay warm and get the coats so we could leave.

about fifteen of us remained in the room. the staff, frantic and close to tears, began handing out the purses. thankfully, we had brought katys purse, which was bright yellow and i recognized it instantly. all of the sudden, the doors started shaking and rapid pounding sounds filled the room. the people who were trapped inside the warehouse desperately wanted out, so they were trying to break down the doors. at this time, i was huddled against a girl i had never met, in line for my coat. i was the second in line, and could see the hanger with our coats on it. i handed the paper to the girl, when the doors suddenly stopped shaking and everything got quiet.

then, i was no longer able to see. i started crying and coughing, roughly rubbing my eyes because i thought something was wrong with my contacts. everyone around me started screaming, but,  i unaware of what was happening, stood there coughing, reaching for my coat. the doors to the outside flew open, letting in fresh air, which brought little relief to my burning throat and eyes. romain, who had been stuck outside in the confusion with katy and the rest of our group, managed to rush in to the room and pull me out, quickly putting a scarf over my mouth. just as we made it to the top of the stairs, the steel doors to the rest of the building burst open, a cloud of gas billowed out, and people came coughing, running, out of the room. the police then formed a wall and wouldnt allow anyone entrance into the building.

i barely noticed this. i couldn't speak, i couldn't breathe. i was doubled over, coughing and spitting onto the ground, shaking and crying. i had never experienced anything like that sensation. i couldnt see, my eyes were squeezed so tightly shut as tears poured down my cheeks. a few moments passed, after many huge gulps of fresh air, i was able to ask romain what had happened. he didnt know the words in english, and simply said "gaz." through gritted teeth.

the police had tear gassed the building. i hadnt been hit with the full force of it, as it had been set off to stop the people trapped inside from rioting. the second i realized i had been tear gassed, pride and exhilaration ran through me. i stood up straight, and between rapid breaths, smiled at romain. he didnt understand my excitement, in fact, no one did. i had heard so many stories about being tear-gassed, but i never thought i would actually experience it. i only wish it had been over something more morally and ethically substantial, like anti-racism or anti-war demonstrations.

eventually, a half hour later, the police began to let people back in, after the gas had dissipated, and the "staff" was able to arrange the coats so people could search through and find their own. first the girls, then the boys, in sets of five. so we werent able to leave the party until 8am. we didnt make it home until nine thirty.

i knew the french were prone to rioting, and that it was intense, but i never dreamed it would happen at a party over the coats! i still cant believe that night actually happened.