The day after New Year's Eve...

The snow is falling fast and cold on the tarmac. It is quiet. Street lights dot the pavements in full bloom. Bottles and streamers litter everywhere. I am cold. I stretch out my legs from being tucked in to gain warmth. Arrgh, pins and needles, not a good sign. That is the least of my worries. I carefully open my eyes and boy, they sting! The snow keeps falling. I am thirsty. Don’t eat yellow snow, but I need to. Melting the snow I am able to get some liquid in me. The back of my throat hurts like hell. My focus is non-existent, my head thumps and thumps. No chance of me remembering last night. I feel for my clothes; still there. My eyes are beginning to focus, slowly. Where the heck am I? I need warmth, and fast.

“Sors d’ici” says a gruff voice.

“Eh?”

“Sors d’ici”, and a black laced boot hits me hard on my legs.

“OW!”

I could just about make out two feet walking off and a voice mumbling.

Where am I?

I hear a phone ring. It stops. It rings again. It takes me ages to work it out. In my black jeans front pocket is my mobile. Fumbling to locate it, it keeps ringing off and starting again, I eventually answer it.

“Dude, where are you?”

“I don’t know,” I mutter incoherently.

“Hell of a night, dude!”

“I don’t know,” was all I can muster. My head is still thumping and my eyes are focusing slightly.

“Oh dude, you were out of it. Proper smacked up dude”.

Nope, no memory.

“Top night to have your Stag Do. Neva had one New Year’s Eve before. We were all off our rockers”.

Still not coming back to me.

“Then, we got you on a train. Eurostar, I think”.

“Eurostar!” that made me sit up, “how the hell...”

Laughter was all I can hear on the end of my Sony mobile. My mind is swirling, and still banging. France! Could I be? No, surely not!

“Hey Buzz how’s Paris?” came Ian.

“Paris!” I manage to splutter.

“Yeah Paris. We got you on the train and you past out. Dunno how, but got you past security and off you went”.

I am flabbergasted. Somehow the cold has disappeared. How am I going to get home? I fumble for my wallet. My fingers have gone numb now. I hang up. I need to get my act together. It doesn’t half sober you up. Head still throbbing. My mobile rings again.

“Hey dude, we’re coming to get you. Whereabouts are you? Stay put!”

“I don’t know,” I really had no idea.

“Right, stay where you are.” Slaz says in all seriousness. “I’ll get a track on your phone and we’ll come to you. Keep it on.”

“Hurry up as there’s not much battery,” I slowly reply.

“We’ll see, just keep it on. You got money?” he asks.

I open my black wallet. English pounds. “No, you idiot!”

“Well go to the bank and get some cash out.”

Good idea, I think, as I locate my card. Phew! I hang up. Panic. I cannot think straight. My head is still fuzzy. The snow is laying thick now. I look around and come to realise I am outside the train station. Probably been thrown here, Paris Gare du Nord. Slaz’ll know to come here.

It feels like years as Slaz and Ian finally arrive. I have managed to get some Euros and a coffee. Surprisingly on New Year’s Day. I could kill them.

I’ve always wanted to see Paris, but this wasn’t how I planned it!

The End