Goodbye Asia, Europe here I come

Landing in Paris and hour before my parents the plan was for me to get my luggage and meet them at their gate; it seemed like a pretty simple plan. Due to miscalculated winds, having to change flights paths due to a migrating flock of birds, or some other unforeseen reason I only landed 30 min before they were supposed to. Grabbing my luggage I checked the arrival board for their flight and that is when it dawned on me, though we both flew Air France what are the odds a flight from the US is in the same terminal I am…of course not. Not as prepared as I thought I was I began rummaging through my backpack for the piece of paper I had written down their flight information on. Umm, another interesting turn of events, the paper is nowhere to be found. No problem, I will just ask the information desk which terminal the Air France plane from Houston is going to land in…or was it Minneapolis? You hear all of the rumors about how the French hate Americans and how American are so stupid, I am pretty sure that stereotype is created by people going to the Information desk and saying “can you please tell me which terminal the Air France flight from Minneapolis or Houston is going to land in? It should land in about 15 minutes”. If only I knew how to describe the look she gave me. Determining they were coming from Minneapolis she told me to cross that open area, take a left, followed by a right, keep straight in the hallway (which unknown to me happens to be symbolized by a down arrow), enter terminal 2E, go downstairs, and you will be right there. Simple right? With 7 min until my parents scheduled arrival I started running across the airport. I looked like that guy who thinks he showed up with enough time to catch his flight but later realizes there is a huge backup at security and now he is forced to haul ass through the busy airport, luggage slapping into walls and other people. Reaching the escalator I could see another baggage claim area, and low and behold right on the other sides of the glass wall were my parents. Quickly wiping my brow I tried my best to make it look like I had not just done a half mile sprint through the Paris airport. If you were timing me though I am pretty sure I ran 1:02 splits in my over the toe Indian sandals, airport sprints has always been my event.

With all family members accounted for we headed for the bus, which is the recommended method for reaching our hotel based off the travel books my mother checked out from the library (this is where she yells at me for poking fun at her research methods and then informs me that I could have done the research myself and for the next trip I will). After a quick 20 minute ride the bus stopped at the Arc de Triomphe and we collected our things and exited. Opening the map and orienting ourselves we eventually realized we needed to be on the other side of the arch. With luggage in tow we crossed Champs-Elysees and headed for the hotel. I felt like I should be riding my bike around the circle in my Lance style yellow shirt after winning the Tour De France, and let me tell you it is no small circle. Finally reaching our destination we checked in and headed for the room.. My father laid down, my mother began looking around and I headed for a nice room temperature glass of tap water. It is absolutely amazing how quickly you miss things that you never realized matter to you in the past.

"Paris" Pictures

Blake