14 July 2010

Home Again, Pt. 3

Waiting outside the train station to catch a shuttle, I heaved my carry-on (I put all my heavy non-liquids in it. I didn't want to pay for my checked bag being too heavy!) on top of my suitcase and rolled into the shade. It was hot in Paris, almost 90 F, and humid.
When one finally arrived, I rolled over and asked the driver if he went to the Ibis Hotel. He pointed back at the station, sending me to the door that exited the other side.

I thanked him, confused, and rolled myself and my belongings back through the glass doors towards the other side of the station and realized that in fact, I didn't need a shuttle, because the hotel was just outside! I went in after a huge sigh of relief (I was hoping to avoid a Liam-Neeson-necessary adventure...) and booked a room for the night.

I took the elevator up to my room on the fourth floor, slid my stuff inside the teeny door, tossed my carry-on on the double bed and -- no shame here -- I cried. After a stressful day of missing the flight that I was so ready to be on, having to fend for myself in a different language and foreign and confusing airport, I was tired and sad. I settled myself, ate a less than mediocre lunch in the hotel restaurant and then rested in the room.

I headed down to try dinner, hopeful that the restaurant would be better this time around. However, I did hedge my bet by choosing to skip the salad and go straight for some hamburger -- steak haché -- and fries and a dessert. That dessert was the best thing that happened to me all day; three scoops of ice cream - two strawberry and one mango.

I eavesdropped on a conversation happening behind me and it turns out I wasn't the only person to miss the flight -- evidently the flight seemed to have left nearly half empty! I went back to my room and watched a strange film in what I assume was dutch, and then passed out.


The journey is almost over!

Hope you all don't mind that I've broken this into so many parts, but I don't want to bog you down with seventeen pages of me whining.

Do you wanna share some travel stories to make me feel a little better about missing my plane!?


  1. Two summers ago my cousin and I flew to Richmond to spend some time with my sister, after a really fun week, we headed home, after a connecting flight at JFK. We joked about how fun it would be to "accidentally" miss our flight back to phoenix. It actually happened, due to some craziness in Richmond and New York. We met some cool boys who worked at JFK who set us up in a less noisy terminal and some cots. The next day our flight wasn't until 4 Pm so we went into the city and explored. Now quite how I wanted to see New York for the first time, but it was fun anyway!

  2. Wowza! Well, I guess it's good that you really did 'accidentally' miss it... Can you imagine having to explain -- "Oh, we were joking around and thought it woudl be funny to miss it!"
    I thought about going into Paris when I missed mine, but by myself would have been a little scary!