Home Again, Pt. 4

When I last wrote about my saga of international flight misadventures, I had finished a vaguely confusing day in my Paris hotel room and fallen asleep.

Being the over-planner that I am, I set about 7 alarms on my iPod (since my phone doesn't work internationally), but they ended up being a waste, since I woke up every hour on the hour starting at four. I got out of bed at seven and took my time getting ready, since I didn't need to be to my gate until 9:30.

After buying a pen and my final pain au chocolat, I returned to my room and had to take the elevator three times to get to the lobby (it was only partly my fault...) where I returned my key and headed back into the station.

From this point on my trip went almost completely as planned -- sans one small adventure during the security checkpoint! After setting all my belongings into the bins and waiting my turn, the metal detector beeped as I walked through it. The security attendant waved me to the side and patted me down -- I wasn't wearing any metal, save a necklace! After deciding that she didn't notice anything, she was handed a metal detecting wand, and when she waved that over my limbs, it beeped like crazy on my knees! After asking if I had prosthetics, she shrugged and waved me on. Safe, right?

I arrived safely in Charlotte after a very pleasant flight seated between a French girl headed to AZ and an anthropologist who incidentally came to France on the same flight as me. As a side note, during this flight I watched the films When In Rome, Couples Retreat, What Happens In Vegas and the biopic Temple Grandin, which was fantastic. More about that in another post.

I arrived home to a warm welcome from my parents and my handsome boyfriend and we headed home, with a well-needed stop for Mexican food on the way.

All's well that ends well, eh?

Here's to hoping you have some wild stories for me to hear about! Any trips planned for the rest of your summer?

Home Again, Pt. 2

After hearing from the rather brusque flight agent that I couldn't board my flight back to the states, I was dazed.

What do you mean I can't get on the plane? It's still here?

But I am a good kid, so I did what he told me and headed towards the information desk. There, I tried to get in line, and was yelled at by another agent for coming to close to the desk before it was my turn (these people were grumpy and had no time for me, evidently!).

Eventually I got up to the counter and told them what flight I was on. The woman took my passport and the slip of paper that I had written the flight information on and tic-tacked away at her keyboard. I talked quietly with a very tall and beautiful woman next to me, whose flight left ten minutes before mine for Rome. (They held her plane for her...)

The woman, looked up and said "I will put you on the same flight tomorrow." I nodded, and smiled politely: You couldn't get me there today? Really? But I wasn't gonna push my luck -- I saw the airport Police on my way in -- they carry machine guns!

I stood awkwardly for a while, since she hadn't given me anything, and then she finally looked up and gave me back my passport.

I headed to the nearest payphone, gave the operator my credit card numbers and soon enough my Dad picked up. It was the middle of the night at home, so he was a little groggy, but I let them know what happened, and that I would find a hotel soon. After we hung up, I took off my scarf and put it into my carry on because I was about to die of heatstroke, and headed to the Charles De Gaulle Information desk.

After a few moments of confusing mistranslation, I had the name of a hotel written down and I headed to the shuttle area to catch a bus for my hotel. So I stood, and waited, in the heat. And waited...

To be continued...

Home Again, Pt.1

Or, How I almost didn't make it home from France.

Okay, so that's a little melodramatic, but I was in fact stuck in France for an extra day.

After having a really wonderful last day visiting with Christelle, my host's grandmother and then a great final dinner cooked by Yann, I made it to the train station early to get to my flight on time.

I understood that I needed to be at the airport an hour early, so I choose a train that would get me to the Charles De Gaulle airport about one hour and ten minutes early.

The train was entertaining, I sat behind some cute kids. Unfortunately, the train was also about 20 minutes late.

I finally made it to my check in area in CDG, and when I asked the girl which line I should go into, she asked which flight I was on. Mind you, my flight was scheduled to leave at 11:10 and it was about 10:30 (though I wasn't aware of the time).

Me: Charlotte.
Her: Oh. You are too late.
Me: What?
[She turns and waves a man over towards me, telling him I was there for the Charlotte flight]
Him: Do you know what time it is?
Me: No... but -
Him: Come with me.
[We walk a few feet back where he motions to a departure screen, the time is at the top.]
Him: It is 10:38, and the boarding is closed at one hour before departure. Do you understand? You have missed the flight, you can talk to information.

Me: ... Thank you?

To be continued...