The hooker windup

Went to Paris this weekend to meet Giang who had just flown in for his spring break. We did all the touristy stuff, you know, rode to the top of the Eiffel Tower, went to gardens and museums, got hit in the head by a French hooker, watched br..... Wait, what? Rewind; French hooker?

Yup. Standing in the Gare de Lyon before our train came, what we assumed to be a French hooker walked up to the mirror next to me, completely decked out in far too much silver eyeshadow and fake eyelashes, short-shorts and knee-high socks. She turned around, wound up and swung, straight-armed. I ducked my head at the last minute but her forearm still hit my head. I was in too much shock to react - what was that for? So as she walked away and glared back at me, I just looked at her confusedly and almost laughingly. I wasn't hurt, I wasn't even upset or mad, just completely baffled. All I could think of was, Deja vu from South Korea? Maybe you can recall: Seoul, SK, I was minding my own business, talking with some friends at a street-food vendor, when a most likely drunk/racist old man came up behind me and hit me over the head. And, once again, everyone around me just stared to see how I would react and I just said "....Really?...really?"

I'm pretty sure both times racism and substance abuse were behind it. The hooker was black and maybe high, and probably assumed she was getting a bad vibe from a white girl. Sure, I had glanced at her from afar, but my instincts told me to keep my eyes averted in order to stay out of trouble, so I did. Either way, as Giang put it, at least now I know what a hooker-windup looks like so I can avoid being hit next time. Maybe whip out some kung fu and suprise 'em.

The funniest part is that when I left the US for France, half the people I said goodbye to jokingly warned me to watch out for swinging strangers due to my last experience. Little did we know.