Paris: An expensive, once in a lifetime experience.
Me: A $20 experience you can do most weekends and every other Tuesday when I’m not working at Food Lion.
Paris: Pigeons fighting over your bread crumbs as you sprinkle them around La rue Montorgueil like the old lady from Mary Poppins.
Me: Me dressed as a pigeon fighting your dog Buster for your Papa John’s pizza crust.
Paris: Dirty cobblestone full of rich history from centuries ago.
Me: Dirty linoleum floors full of rich history from two hours ago when I shoveled 20 pounds of dirt in my bare hands from your garden onto your white carpet, which is why my fingernails are black now.
Paris: The glistening Eiffel Tower. The immaculate Arc de Triomphe de l’Étoile. The big ol’ Palace of Versailles. All things you’ve seen in thousands of stock photos on your AppleTV.
Me: The glistening tin-foil beak. The immaculate way I can throw food in the air and catch it 32% of the time. The big ol’ body pillow your mom bought you because she thought you were lonely that is now being used as the foundation for my nest.
Paris: Every woman, man, and child smoking a cigarette.
Me: Me in a pigeon costume smoking 100 cigarettes.
Paris: Rose petals in a heart shape on the floor as you slow dance with your lover. They whisper in your ear, “You’re all I’ll ever need,” like a god-damn chump whose favorite movie is Jerry Maguire.
Me: Dirt in a heart-shape as I stare blankly, cocking my head in strange positions as you walk closer to me. I may “fly” away, but I may also attack you. I call it “Pigeon Roulette.” You’re going to love it.
Paris: Freshly ground espresso and a baguette.
Me: Folgers in your cup from your own cupboard with a crusty bagel that I snatch from your hand while I stomp all over your furniture and shred your couch with my sharp talons, which are just my dad’s steak knives taped to my fingers (please do not tell Dad — he loves his knives and hates my art).
Paris: Normal pigeons that can fly.
Me: I CANNOT FLY. DO NOT ASK ME TO FLY. I WILL GET EMBARRASSED AND HIDE IN YOUR COAT CLOSET, SHRIEKING FOR HOURS. IT IS THE ONLY FLAW IN MY PARIS EXPERIENCE.
Paris: Your room is stocked with the finest champagne.
Me: Your room is stocked with me, passed out on your bed in my pigeon suit, which is really just a sexy big bird Halloween costume I found at Goodwill. You will be sleeping on the couch.
Paris: The Louvre, Versailles, the Opera House, and experiencing true art that you can only find in the extraordinary world of Paris. Oh, and of course, on a little website called YouTube.
Me: I coo like a pigeon for roughly 45 minutes — maybe an hour if you scream, “Go away, pigeon!” Your frustration will only heighten my powers.
Paris: $1000 more for the honeymoon suite.
Me: $5 more for me to shove your couch pillow in my back and reenact every scene with the gargoyles from The Hunchback of Notre Dame animated Disney movie.