How One Little Bikini Almost Caused an International Incident

I wish I could say it was laundry day, but the reality is I had simply stopped caring. Yes, I wore my girlfriend's bikini during my first outing in Paris (France, not Texas.) The weather was freezing, but the bikini promised to keep me warm. My gf's bikini is not your typical piece of sexy wear: she produced it herself while working for a large multinational that we will cryptically refer to as "Nosotros."

When I first started going through her collection, the bikini stood out for the raw, manly energy it radiated. I had previously noted an H&M leopard blazer in her closet and knew that I had found my New Year's look. Though the bikini is in actuality snake print, it matches well with the leopard print. The minute I put the two together, my energy level increased exponentially to such an extent that I had no other choice but to go for a polar dive in one of Amsterdam's canals. Copious amounts of fornication also ensued.

Hell, maybe I shouldn't even pretend that I wished it was laundry day: I wanted my raw tiguere power to take Paris by storm. I first began to remove the layers which separated the world from my snake power when we got to the Eiffel tower. It was -2c, but my bikini and a light jacket was all I needed. So, I stood atop the barrier separating the Seine from the sidewalk and began attracting the tourist hordes. I guess people started confusing me for some sort of hybrid Arctic-tropical street performer, and accordingly a tour bus of Japanese tourists started dropping cash into my pants next to the barrier. French people simply kept walking by, almost as if completely unfazed.

I stood on the barrier for 20 minutes, and made a good 7 euros and 23 cents; easiest money I've ever made. Like the good Dominican that I can be, I saw a business opportunity reveal itself to me: I had to be a street performer for a day. First, however, I had to warm up by spending my newfound wealth on cheap beer. We walked along the Seine, away from the Eiffel tower, until we got to the Louvre. Behind the Louvre I found a supermarket and refilled the good ole' beer tank. The details are sketchy after that, but we wound up in a place with a lot of sidewalk chalk art, a Banksy-like mural of Salvador Dali, and a very grumpy clown.

Dismayed at my monetary inefficiencies due to alcoholism, I decided to get back on the street art circuit right then. However, I found myself on a mean clown's turf. I don't know where my girlfriend went, or why I decided to set up shop next to the clown, but he didn't like it one bit when I started taking away his clientele. He was standing still as a statue for 5 minutes before he finally decided to turn his head to me. I had made 50 cents and he was starting to notice.

I couldn't read his face behind the paint, but I think he wanted to cry in French, "Pourquois, pourquois are you taking away my business, Dominican Dynamite?" A few more people threw money at me, and when I got close to 3 euros, the clown finally snapped at me. He came down from his stool and confronted me. I didn't hear any of the stereotypical "sacrebleus" that television had trained me to expect. Instead, he delivered solid "merde" after "merde." I think he was slightly drunk too, and a crowd gathered around us as we almost got into a shoving match.

A couple of traffic cops had already started to grow concerned by that point, and I could tell they were radioing for backup. I began to put on my pants so I could split, but, given the number of people with camera phones trained at us, and reading how angry the clown was, I knew I was about to cause an international incident the likes of which I hadn't caused in many months. I walked away from the clown when the cops asked me what was going on. "It's just for the cameras," I said without stopping.

I miraculously noticed my girlfriend around a corner, and, as we turned, I sent a final F U to the clown. As I walked down into the subway, I could only imagine the headlines: "Yale grad in bikini takes down French clown" or "Clown walks away with American man's bikini." Either way, it promised to be Onion-worthy.

Later in the subway, my gf would reveal that the snake bikini wasn't a best seller for "Nosotros," but considering that it is now my superhero outfit, I think its runaway success is only guaranteed to come sooner or later.