Paris Jan31-Feb 04

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This was my first time to Paris. It was truly amazing. I got to meet my Italian friend Serena and spend four wonderful days there. Since these entries are only reflections, I thought I would add a story the I wrote after I got back. So here it is:
Obviously I flew out from springfield to Minneapolis. I arrive in the twin cities only to have a really long layover. After the long wait, I board my plane with the destination of Amsterdam. I am glad and excited that I was on the plane, but notice we are sitting on board for a really long time. Finally the pilot comes over the speaker saying that there is a problem with the plane. He states that I warning light is on the the cockpit and the mechanics are checking it out. At this point I don't care how long it takes, I just want them to fix it right because we are going to be in the air for 9 hours. Six of those hours will be over the Atlantic. After a half an hour of sitting and talking to my neighbor, the pilot comes on and states that everything should be okay but they are still checking it out to make sure. At this point he tells us what the light was. IT WAS THE FUEL LIGHT!!! It meant that there was something wrong with the tank. I think that fuel is really important. Finally after about an hour and a half, the mechanics give us the green light. They said the light malfunctioned, and that the tank was fine and that we had fuel after all. Now that I know everything is okay, another problem arises. My layover in Amsterdam was only an hour and we have now been delayed 1.5 hours. So after the long flight and as we were landing in Amsterdam, my plane going to Paris was taking off. So yes, I missed my connection, but the nice people of AirFrance hooked me up with the next flight that left in 45 minutes. So now I have been delayed a little over two hours. This creates another problem because me and Serena didn't have a back up plan. We were going to meet at Gard du Nord(north train station) at the main entrance at noon. That is all we said. This was stupid I know because she wasn't too familiar with the station itself. I of course had never been there at all, I was just going along with the ride. So my flight lands at Charles de Gaulle at 1130, so I still had 30 minutes to get to the train station. Meanwhile Serena was supposed to be landing at Orly aiport on the other side of Paris. So I am thinking everything is okay because I still have time. So with my sorry ass French, I manage to get a train ticket from Charles de Gaulle to Gard du Nord. I am feeling confident right now until I arrive and Gard du Nord. When I step off of my train into the station I notice the station is fucking enormous. I mean really enormous. We are talking like 40 football fields worth of footage, maybe more and I am supposed to meet her at the main entrance. Well, there is more than one main entrance, so I am like fuck I need a coke. So I buy myself a coke and a pack of Chesterfield blues and go outside to think about the "what ifs?" All I had was her cell number, but I don't know the country codes or how to go about using public phones(which the instructions are all in French). So I decide to go outside and smoke. It is now noon and Serena is no where to be found. We didn't set up a plan to meet at the hostel because we didn't know which hostel we were going to be staying at. We were just going by the seats of our pants. Around 1215, I see Serena and I am like Shewwww. Everything is okay. We say our hellos and decide to look for a hostel. I had an address of a hostel called "The Peace and Love Hostel." That's right Greg, we stayed there. So we decided to walk there. We arrived at a bar/check in desk and go up to the woman who comments that she likes my rings and that I am all out of fingers(this comment becomes very important). So we ask her if she has a room for the both of us. She asks if we have a reservation, and of course we didn't. She states that she can split us up into two rooms for the four nights. We would be in seperate rooms with other people that we didn't know. I am like "there is nothing you can do for us?" She says "Not really." I am like what is the "really" about? So I proceeded to take the ring off of my pinky finger and give it to her. She is like what is this? I reply does this help with our problem? She looks at it a while and says maybe. I am like it is yours if we can both be in the same room. So she takes out the eraser and starts erasing reserved guests names away. So long story longer, we were in the same room because I bartered my ring away. Those were my first experiences in Paris. The next four days, she wore my ring on her finger.
Here is another story that involves me and Serena in Paris:
Me and Serena had another problem because we asked our front desk woman how to get to Orly Sud airport at 530am. She said we would have to take a taxi because public transportation wouldn't open until 700am. We asked her how much that would cost and she said 40-60 euros. I was like 60 euros!!! No fucking way? She states that she might be able to help us out though. She knows a man that runs an illegal taxi service that could do it for less. She told us to talk to the man who is running the front desk in the mornings. At this point I think she is trying to screw us, but Serena thought that it could be. So we were like what the hell, we will talk to the man the next morning and see what he has to say. So the next day, I go down for a morning cigarette and coffee at the bar and start talking to the man. I ask him about the ride, and he says he would have to make a phone call to see if we could get a ride from his "hookup." He called the man and he said that he could give us a ride for 40 euros. So I said it's a deal. We just had to be ready at 500am. So two days later when it was time for us to depart, we woke up at the ass crack of dawn and met a man outside our hostel, and the strange thing was that the man who made the phone call was also in the van. I guess it is team operation. On the way to the airport we make small talk and you will never guess what nationality these guys were. They were fucking Latvian. They grew up just outside of Riga. We tell them that we lived there for five months and they couldn't believe it because they told us that most Europeans don't even know that Latvia exists. I guess it is a small world, and once again everything worked out and I am still alive.

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