Unlike Lindbergh, the throngs decided to skip the event. It’s likely that this is because most of the country is having a sympathy strike with the BART workers in the Bay Area. In any case, we forgive them.
I won’t go into the difficulties of the flight, I’ll just acknowledge that I was lucky to make this trip. Apparently, the French are just as concerned about what we should do if we crash as the American airlines are, though the traditional buckle-up dance performed by the flight attendants (attendants de flight) was more stylish than I’m used to. Maybe it was the scarves around their necks. This might be something I adopt personally to go with the beret I intend to wear incessantly.
The only difficult part of the flight was semi-waking up somewhere east of Nova Scotia and seeing that I had slept through the handout of ice cream bars. I’m not sure how this custom started but they should have woken me up. Nothing can make a man lonelier than being surrounded by a couple of hundred “friends”, all of whom are licking Hagen-Daz bars and knowing that you can’t have one because of the literal “you snooze, you lose” (Vous empêchez-vous perdre) rule. Oh well, like Donna Summers (may her name be a blessing) said, “I will survive.”
Made it to the apartment in the Marais. It’s where we stayed 8 or 9 years ago and it felt great. But we were beat. We took a walk along the Seine which is just a block from our place, bought some food for breakfast and picnics, had a bite to eat and called it a night.
We don’t have plans for Paris, we’ll just be taking it day by day, revisiting a few museums, but mostly I’m just looking forward to walking around this wonderful city.