46. Travel: Paris

I was supposed to go to Indianapolis.  In briefing, we were short one flight attendant for FAA minimums, so I went to the crew desk to ask for a replacement person.  “I can’t deal with that now!” yelled the scheduler.  “I’m trying to get the Paris flight out—we’re short one on that!” 

Paris?  Did she say Paris? 

“Uh, I have my passport,” I offered helpfully, as if every flight attendant in the airport did not have her passport, a mandatory item. 

“Do you have your French visa?” 

I flashed back to that entire day off I had “wasted in line” at the French embassy, griping that I would never get to use that visa. 

“Yes.” 

“Go to gate 68B.  Run!”    

The flight was a blur.  I was going to Paris, with a 24-hour layover! 

Since it was a red-eye flight, the crew and I were exhausted upon arrival.  I went to my hotel room to take a 4-hour power nap so I could have the stamina to see Paris.

When I woke up, I immediately went to the front desk to get a map so I could walk around.  I had spent a week in Paris in college, so I had already done all the touristy things:  the Eiffel Tower, the Champs-Élysées , the Louvre, the Picasso Museum, the Musee d’Orsay, the Pompidou Center.  This trip was just about wandering.

I gawked at the stunning architecture all around me. 

I sipped café au lait and nibbled on a chocolate éclair while relaxing at a sidewalk café. 




I people-watched in the park.  I shopped in little shops. 



I practiced my French.  I pretended I lived there.  Later, I went for a run near the Eiffel Tower.  For one day, I was Parisian.     

  

It was the best trip to Indianapolis I never had. 

MOV