La Greve!

I finally shook off my ever-growing apathy long enough to go apply for my long-stay visa. I remembered applying for my student visa, and had steeled myself for an army of unattractive, hostile French bureaucrats and discussions such as:

French person: Do you have a photocopy of your birth certificate translated into French?
Me: Umm, yes, I think it's here...
French person: (pours pot of scalding water onto my head)

Needless to say, French bureaucracy did not disappoint. Although I got to the place as soon as it opened (at 8:30 AM) and was about tenth in line, I waited for almost two hours. I listened to the entire Goldberg Variations with repeats while in line, and was thus exhausted on multiple levels by the time I finally talked to anybody.
I was instantly rejected, since I didn't have proof that my apartment was insured. This was never, ever mentioned on the website, or any instructions for applying for the long-stay visa. I showed the woman my apartment contract to prove that I was indeed sleeping in a bed, and not on a bed of straw in the metro. Her response was typical:
"Humph, well, anybody could have that contract. It doesn't prove anything."
Except that I have an apartment. And that I hate you all.

No, that's not fair--I've met some very nice people in Paris recently, although I keep making awkward gaffes that put friendship just out of reach.
Example:

French girl: Did you hear that a woman in Belgium had her daughters kidnapped?
Me: How can she complain? They have the best waffles in the world in Belgium.
French girl: (silence)

Was I wrong? I've never heard anyone complain about extra whipped cream and strawberries, but maybe it just doesn't suit some people.

I have lost pretty much all of my battles here in Paris until now, but I believe I have emerged victorious from the one with my crazy neighbor. I crossed her while leaving my building yesterday and prepared for the inevitable psychotic rants and poxes on my head. I glared at her as she came inside. She looked to the ground and didn't say a word. I even held the door for her.
I then immediately walked outside and whispered "I win" to myself and gave a little cackle. I wish I was making this up.
It's going to be a fun week--we're looking at one of the biggest metro/public transportation strikes in history. Of course, this is Paris, so the students have now joined forces with the transportation workers and are blocking off the universities.
And of course, this is Paris, so there's a huge counterprotest against the strikes on Sunday. Obviously my work is cut out for me, and I need to organize a protest against this counterprotest until the entire country implodes, like when you put a humidifier and a dehumidifier next to each other.
Vive la France!