Musée de Clumsy

Words of wisdom from a bumbling American tourist: if you’re looking to endear a group of foreign religious pilgrims, let your transition lenses adjust from the glaring sunlight before making your grand entrance into the dark mid-evil dungeon that is Musée de Cluny.
I thought, wow, what’s that? and made a beeline towards a 600 year old wall-sized French oak relief sculpture, very dark, but obviously very cool. I did have an inkling as to what it was all about, because this was the period where artists got with the program or found their heads on the end of a stick.
The first thing out of my mouth as I tripped over the highly effective, “don’t step beyond this rope you stupid moron” sign was, “Jesus H. Christ” book ended with a couple of giant American fucks. That’s French for ouch that really hurt.
The floor was also made from a mighty French Oak tree, and it didn’t give an inch. You’d think with all wine the French drink they could have at least made it out of cork. I bruised a hip, cracked a knee and punished my pride.
My glasses were now fully in focus so when Jesus came in to view he and his followers looked none too pleased with me. I realized the looks of disbelief from the other patrons weren’t associated with my knowledge of J.C.s middle name. Just then I knew how an ant felt when being burned under a magnifying glass. There’d been a collective gasp and a synchronized genuflect, as they could barely believe their eyes or ears. The sleepy eyed security guard, on the other hand, could have been a statue, obviously not in it for the long haul and would clock out in a couple of hours. Where was his concern for my wellbeing? The only muscles he moved was a wiggling eyebrow while sporting a “nice going dip-shit”, French smirk.
Ah, finally, my loving wife, my one true ally. Her “Oh honey” spoke volumes in any language. It’s true she can’t take me anywhere. I did a quick tally of my finances and concluded that I came about a half meter away from mortgaging my soul or working in the gift shop for all of eternity before I dusted my self off and slunk away from near disaster while singing, “Oh Canada.”

2 thoughts on “Musée de Clumsy

  1. Elisa B Blue

    I love hearing about your adventures. I too am a clutz, so I sympathize with your trials and tribulations. Stay on your feet friend.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.