Travel Trials and Tribulations

There are times I really hate traveling. What with the schlepping back and forth and the long hours on planes and the time changes, it can be kind of a pain in the ass. Take the trip over to Paris for instance. I met Jill at the airport on Saturday morning, and as we did our check-in, we were informed that our flight had been delayed. Since we had to make a connection in Detroit, the Northwest ticket counter agent was kind enough to change us to a different flight that left at our original time. So we went through security, bought a couple of trashy magazines for the flight, and went to our gate. We got on the plane on time, but we stayed on the ground long past the original departure time. About an hour actually. By the time we took off, there were some pretty antsy people that had been sitting on that plane for about an hour and a half. But not us. No. Jill and I were calm, chatting up a storm, and just excited to be leaving. It wasn't until about three hours into the flight that things changed. The pilot goes on the loudspeaker and announces that there is snow on the ground in Detroit, and that passengers should call an 800 number to rebook flights and see about finding a hotel for the night. What? Rebook flights? Hotel for the night? What does that mean? Is the airport closed? But they're letting us land there, so it can't be that bad right? As these scenarios continue to play out in our heads, Jill and I try to calmly figure out if our connecting flight is cancelled or not, where the hell we're going to stay if it is, and what we're going to do in Paris if we get there a day late. Turns out that Mathieu, the friend we were going to stay with, got called to work in Germany for a few days, so he was going to pick us up at the airport and leave us his keys until he got back. (Absolute saint, more on that later). This plan however, was dependent on us getting to Paris before he left. And if we were delayed in Detroit......you get the idea. So we're starting to figure out where we're going to stay instead, how we're going to find a hostel so late in the game, and how much all of this is going to cost us.

By the time we land, we have less than 15 minutes before our next flight takes off, and no idea if it is actually leaving. We raced out of the plane and asked someone at the counter about our plane. She tells us that all domestic flights are cancelled, but that our flight is leaving. It is however, on the other side of the terminal. Of course. So we start running up escalators and across the terminal before finally reaching our gate just as we hear our names being called over the loudspeaker. We rush through the gate and get onto the plane, feeling lucky to have made it. Due to the freezing cold weather in Detroit, our plane need to be de-iced. I had no idea this process even existed. So we are delayed by an hour yet again, although by this point we are so tired we don't care.

We make it to Charles De Gaulle Airport in Paris around 11:00 Sunday morning, glad to have had some sleep on the long flight there. I am a giddy little kid as we enter the terminal, just thrilled to see signs in French. I am ready to see France. Unfortunately our luggage is not. We wait patiently by the carousel, but our bags don't come. Hmm... We make our way to the counter of lost luggage information, and begin piecing together French words for "baggage" and "lost" before realizing the lady speaks English. The man in line ahead of us is evidently furious not to have his suitcase Right Now, and freaks out like a little boy who needs his toys. He must have had the codes to some nuclear weapon in there or something. When we're finally up, we give the lady at the counter all our information and tell her our bags are lost. "They are not lost," she corrects us, "they're just not with you." Touche. If the Detroit airport opens up by the next day we should receive our bags by the following evening. Otherwise it could be longer. Luckily the kind lady at the counter gave us both cute little overnight bags with the essentials; toothbrush, toothpaste, hand lotion, etc... It was enough to keep us happy. So with only the bags we'd taken on the plane we marched straight through French Immigration (guess there's no post 9/11 changes there), and met up with Mathieu.

As we were driving into Paris I looked inside the car, at my friend Mathieu who had waited patiently for us at the aiport, and my friend Jill who had endured the same things I had and was still smiling. And then I stared out the window of his Citroen and saw the city. I saw the people, the sites, the buildings. You know, there are times I really love traveling.