Home at Last

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Yesterday was my flight back to the US. And of course, it wouldn't be a true international flight for me unless at least seven things went wrong. I started the morning in Beauvais, a small town about an hour north of Paris. We were there because Lauren was flying to Scotland to visit her cousin and her flight left from the airport there instead of in Paris. Also, her flight left really early in the morning, so we spent the night there to make it easier. Well, after she left, I had to take a taxi to the train station in Beauvais. I got out pretty easy because someone else from the hotel had to go the the station too, so we split the cost of the cab. Once I got there, catching my train to Paris was no problem. We even arrived on time. Even in Paris things went smoothly. I caught the train to the airport, no problem. I got to the airport in time, checked in, and at the proper time I boarded the plane.

"Wow," I thought as I sat on the plane waiting to take off, "this is actually going pretty well for once." Of course, that's where everything fell apart. The captain informed us that the hydraulic lift used to load our baggage onto the airplane had broken. Our bags got loaded fine, but they couldn't get the machine away from the plane for us to take off. Well, after about half an hour they fixed it and we took off. The captain assured us we would still land at the scheduled time. Naturally, that didn't happen. We were about 20 minutes late landing. Because our flight had come from France, my luggage didn't automatically get forwarded to my connecting flight. I had to go to the baggage claim, get my luggage, go through customs, then re-check my bags. Keep in mind that because of our delayed take-off I had exactly a one-hour window before my connecting flight left.

So, I go to the baggage claim area and wait patiently. After at least 30 minutes of waiting, the bags finally start to appear. None of them are mine. I keep looking at my watch nervously. I have 20 minutes before my flight leaves, still no bags. I have 15 minutes before my flight leaves, still no bags. I decide "screw it," I'd rather be home than have my bags. I take off running through the airport. I assumed that the gate for my connecting flight will be nearby and 15 minutes will be ample time to make it there. Wrong again. It's all the way across the airport. I ran non-stop until I reached the gate. . . . . . . . five minutes after the plane had left.

By this time, I just want it all to end. I go back to the American Airlines ticket counter and they get me booked on a Delta flight to Atlanta that leaves in an hour. I go check-in with Delta. "I may actually get home tonight," I say to myself. I proceed through the Delta security check. I guess because I haven't had a haircut in a few months and haven't shaved in a week, they think I look like some kind of security threat. I get the full work-up. They thoroughly go through each of my bags. They pat me down, wave the metal detector over every inch of my body, make me take off my shoes, take off my belt, and empty my pockets. Despite this lengthy delay, I still get to the gate on time to board the plane. On the entire airplane, there were maybe 20 other people besides me.

I get to Atlanta on time and my mom is there to meet me. If you recall though, my luggage is still in Chicago because I didn't have time to claim it. So, I have to go to the other side of the airport once I arrive to file a missing bag report with American. Once there, they tell me that since Delta brought me to Atlanta, they have to find my bags for me, even though American is in possession of them. So, I walk back to the other side of the airport and file the claim with Delta. To their benefit, they were a lot more efficient than American. Where it took more than a week for American to return my lost bags in France, Delta had them back to me today (less than 24 hours).

It's good to finally be home.

School

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Thursday afternoon I went with Lauren to one of her schools to watch her teach two classes. The little kids (they were between 10 and 12) seemed very confused by my arrival. They all just stared at me and a couple asked Lauren if I was her husband. I sat in the back of the room for both classes, and all during the lessons the kids would intermittently turn around and just stare at me.

After the second class, it was time for recess. We stood outside with a couple of the other teachers watching all of the crazy little bastards run wild. After recess was over, one of the classes Lauren teaches invited us to stay and have some chocolate cake for one of the student's birthday. Well, while we were eating, I guess the students got up their nerves because they started asking me a million questions. . . . in French. About eight of them backed me into a corner all speaking at once asking things like 'do you know spider-man?' 'do you know batman?' 'do you know Spongebob?' 'have you been to Paris?' 'have you been to New York?' I couldn't even answer them because I couldn't understand five people speaking at once.

As we left, two of the little boys shook my hand and all of the students taking English were saying 'goodbye' with very heavy accents.

Stickin It to the Man

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We walked downtown today to run errands and we ran into a sea of people. Evidently, there was a protest today about something or other. There were seriously around 800 people carrying flags, chanting, and marching straight down the middle of the street. This really hurt us because the tram that we usually use to get around wasn't running in the middle of town because of all these jackasses. We got a flyer from some dude handing out propaganda. Evidently, liberal politics have been hurting the job market. So, there were a ton of pissed off people.

Bisous

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When two people meet for the first time (usually girl/guy or girl/girl) they give each other what's called bisous (pronounced bee-zoos). It's pretty much touching left cheek to left cheek and kissing, then repeating it for the right cheek. You don't kiss the person, but you make the kiss sound and motion. Bisous are also done as a greeting between two people who know each other well. In this case, they are even done by two guys.

As a non-French person, this is very awkward for me. I never know if a girl I'm introduced to will expect this or what. Usually, they will initiate it. It's still pretty uncomfortable. In one instance, we ran into one of the teachers Lauren works with at one of her schools. She introduced me to her and the woman leaned in to give me the bisous. The first one went off with no problem, but when we switched to the right cheek for the kiss, something went awry. I don't know if it was my fault - being utterly inexperienced - or hers, but instead of our cheeks touching, it was almost the corners of our mouths that touched. Either way, we got way too close to actually giving each other a real kiss. After she left, I told Lauren about it and of course blamed it on her teacher trying to get some American action. After all, she was young and pretty cute.

As I've said before, this is done as an introduction between a girl and a guy or two girls. I'm not really sure of the etiquette between two guys being introduced. But, to save myself from the possibility of kissing another guy, whenever I am introduced to someone new I immediately stick out my hand to shake.

Just Our Luck

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Well, after last week's disappointment at the soccer game being canceled, we decided to try it again. So last night, we made the trek back out to the stadium to try and catch the last home game before I have to leave to come home in three weeks. Take a wild guess. That's right kids, the game was canceled AGAIN!!!!!!! What the hell? Once I can understand, but twice? We got off the bus and were looking stunned at the completely blacked-out stadium. Some drunk Frenchie saw our confusion and slurred something at us and laughed hysterically as he was walking by. I can only speculate that he said "the game was canceled you silly American jackasses." We were pissed.