The Eiffel Tower

The Eiffel Tower is an old rusty piece of latticework that is improbably beautiful close up. It also looks like an alien robot leg from this angle. At night it's a cluster of strobe / search lights in the shape of a tower, sparkling over Paris with the intensity of a fireworks finale.

It's also an ingenious tourist trap, luring folks from motherfucking everywhere onto its massive two-tiered elevator-pods. (It would also be the world's most dangerous dildo if it appeared in toy form (which it does)).

Today, after buying the world's most delicious cookie* from a shop down the street from my hotel, I ventured down the five blocks it takes to get to the tower.

Fuck all the haters, waiting in line is actually the bomb. It makes you about 5,000 times more excited about whatever you're about to do. Next time I have to do something terrible, I'm going to make myself wait in line first.

One of my favorite things was the restaurant on the second floor that had been overtaken by pigeons. Here you see them, claiming the islands of various tables and basically freaking everyone the fuck out (people are not pictured):



The top was freezing and made me cry unintentionally all over myself (does this happen to anyone else in cold weather?) and a little Italian woman took pity on me. I counted five gay people.

Also, views bore me after .5 seconds of staring. See:



"..................'night.

Okay, there was a rainbow, which actually was mildly exciting.



And if you're a film buff, there's also a film on the first floor of the tower which is anti-lingual, meaning it has no languages, it was just music and pictures of the tower and people pretending to fall off the tower and climb the tower and dropping their glasses off the tower (and on to other people's eyes). You can also buy a Kit Kat bar which may or may not taste like complete crap.

To summarize, the Eiffel Tower is a great place for counting gay people, crying due to cold temperatures, meeting friendly pigeons, watching a movie that has no language, pretending you're on a roller coaster, enjoying things more after waiting long periods of time and counting gay men ( I suppose you can do this anywhere).

(*Seriously-it was like the ingredients for the cookie all met under a communism . No one ingredient overpowered the other. It wasn't too sweet, too buttery, too strawberry-y, it just was, it simply existed. I'm making a gross orgasm face while I explain this to you but you can't see it because you're just reading this online).