Chez Moi

I get asked a lot of questions about my professional life. I suppose that comes with being 28 and living life as some sort of Bohemian Rhapsody. You know, "Any way the wind blows"...Some people like that about me, others find it challenging, even sort of sad. Today...or yesterday rather...started like any other day. Except I got on a plane. Well, actually I GOT BUMPED from my British Airways flight (apparently there's some sort of athletic event going on in London) and got on an American Airlines flight. After some seat switching, we ended up taking off and heading for Paris. I guess I must be spoiled, because I'm used to having those little screens on the back of my headrest. I like having my choice of bad 80s movies, but instead there were two or three 14 inch televisions. I don't remember the name of the film, I blacked out when I found out it had the Rock and Vanessa Hudgens in it. But it had something to do with a plane crash (appropriate choice) and landing on an island of Dinosaurs. About ten minutes into the film the audio broke. The flight attendant got on the speaker with the most APATHETIC tone I'd ever heard "Um. Ladies and Gentleman.We're having some audio issues and we're trying to fix it, but it's not looking good." But instead of STOPPING the film, they just let it run. Boredom set in and eventually, I began making up dialogue to go along with the obviously bizarre story line. Suddenly the two girls and guy next to me joined along. This killed one hour of the flight. There was no wi-fi, no tv and while some people can sleep on an aluminum tube flying through the air at break neck speeds, I am not one of them. So I tried to be positive. If Lucky Lindy can cross the Atlantic all by his lonesome...I could listen to some music. Then my iPod died. So I sat there. I carry a rosary with me on flights ever since I started flying. (I have an absolute phobia of flying, in case you couldn't tell. And I swear if one of you says "It's safer than driving" I will swim the Atlantic and come punch you) I was saying a little prayer to myself when we hit some INTENSE turbulence over the Atlantic and no sooner than the F-word dropped out of my mouth my rosary broke in half. I guess a religious artifact can only handle so many swear words. When we finally landed in Charles De Gaulle, my luggage was absent. As it turns out while I HAD been bumped to the other flight, my luggage got to stay on its original path. To London Heathrow. More F-words came out of my mouth. Thankfully, it wasn't far behind and I managed to make it to my apartment where I met my new roommates Amel and Thomas, Thomas is going to England so I am taking over his spot. Thankfully they both speak excellent English and seem to find my little Bachelor's degree in French charming or at least pretended to. But the other hilarious moment of the day came when I realized hat I, a person who has traveled many times in the past and knows the ins and outs of European electronic outlets...forgot to buy an adapter. What you might not ALSO know is that last week I broke two toes on my foot and fractured another bone. So, knowing my internet is the only way I can stay in touch with the people I adore, I headed out to Rue de Rivoli, one of the largest streets in France, in search of an Apple Store. I walked almost 20 blocks, limping when I finally found one in the Opera district. It was located in a historic building that had something to do with Napoleon Bonaparte. As I limped into the palace, seeing the familiar simple tables of iPads and MacBooks, I began to wonder if Napoleon would have been okay with corporate takeover of one of his residences. Then I remembered N.B was ALL about the takeover in his day. I deemed that he would approve, paid an exuberant 70 euros for the new adapter and limped back to Concorde. It would have been easy to have been frustrated today. But I was talking to a cab driver who took me back home for the evening. We were talking about the stonework on the buildings and how rare and beautiful it is for history to be so well preserved and as I hobbled up the stairs to soak my poor feet in epsom salts, I felt the love of the city rush over me. Yes. I had been stressed. Yes I was sore and had been awake for over 24 hours. But this city does something to me. Some people find peace in the mountains, on the beach, or even in their own living room. But I have trouble taking it all in and managed to stop limping for one moment. I turned around and saw the Eiffel Tower and the top of Napoleon's tomb in the distant skyline. I always remember the words of Gertrude Stein who once famously said "America is my country, but Paris is my hometown." Couldn't have said it better myself. How could anyone be frustrated in a city like this? Except for the pedestrians. PEOPLE CANNOT DRIVE HERE! But more on that later.