So another year rolled around and I had spectacularly failed to die, so a birthday had to be celebrated. While the Germans were celebrating my birthday with the opening weekend of Octoberfest, Rach convinced me to party with the Parisians, since the French were celebrating my birthday by playing Ireland in the Rugby World Cup (at the time, this was one of the most anticipated match ups of the tournament).
After a few hiccups (nearly missing the flight, then arriving at our pre-booked accomodation at midnight to find ourselves locked out and with no-one at reception... my month spent learning French in Villefranche really paid off at this point), we settled in to Paris. We did all the usual Paris things: strolling along the Seine, visiting Notre Dame and the Eiffel Tower, getting drunk with Canadians in kilts at Trocadero... you know, the usual.
That night, we all headed out to the Stade de France... most of us without tickets. Jono and I managed to score grade purple tickets a few minutes before kick-off by making a deal with some dodgy scalper types. The match was great fun, but didn't really live up to the billing, mainly because the Irish were so rubbish.
For post-match celebrations we headed to an English themed bar of all places, and even made it there despite the pick-pocket on the train and Tim's directions. The place was absolutely heaving, with girls even dancing on the bar, while the barstaff just kept serving the punters between their legs... a crazy night and a great way to see in another year.