Back in One Piece

Airports are pure craziness, I tell you. Everytime I am in an airport, I see people at their worst. Parents stomp around in a huff while barking at their kids to stay close. Businessmen talk furiously into their Bluetooth devices while waiting in the line at Starbucks, giving the barista an evil eye as they anxiously await their caffeine fix. Backpackers and students walk around with their eyes glazed, rendered ulle airport, situated a good 10 miles from the north of the city. After we hugged goodbye, I scrambled to the departure screen to find my flight, only to see that I was in the wrong terminal. Oops.

After I hit the CDG Val (a monorail that escorts visitors to one of the airport's three terminals), I found the line for my flight. Just as I made my way to the ticket counter, one of the airline representatives told me that there were no more seats and that I would have to fly out the next day.

I can only guess that from the look on my face, she thought she had to appease me in whatever way possible. It's funny because I wasn't at all mad. I was merely thinking, "Hooray! Another night in Paris. I never did get to say goodbye to my friend across the street."

That thought must have translated as frustration or displeasure on my face, because not only did the airline rep offer me a free hotel for the night (with meal vouchers), but a seat on a first class US-bound flight for the next day, AND an international travel voucher. Who's excited? Yes, that would be me.

I'm sure you're thinking that I could've just called my host mom and asked her to pick me up, and spared the airline the trouble of booking me a hotel. I even thought that myself. Yes, a small tiny voice inside my head told me, "They're already giving you a seat in first class tomorrow, and you got a travel voucher. Have some class." But then a louder, more familiar voice in my head said, "Screw that, ride this free horse till it buckles!"

So it turns out that the hotel was one of those airport hotels, so I didn't have to travel far to get to it. That turned out to be a much better solution because I could avoid inconveniencing Micheline by getting her to drive to and from the airport two days in a row. Plus, the hotel was awesome! As soon as I stepped in, I realized that although I had stayed in places that called themselves hotels, they were merely private rooms in a hostel, complete with uncomfortable beds, dirty floors, and bad television.

This one had all the trimmings, including a plush queen-sized bed and a television that offered channels from over a dozen countries. Turns out that world news is much more fascinating in Chinese. Imagine that.

But I digress. I put my things down, giddy at the thought of being in Paris for one more day, and headed straight for the hotel restaurant, lunch voucher in hand. I gorged myself on pasta, salmon, roast beef, chocolate mousse, fruit, and cheese. Luckily there was only one other couple dining, but I doubt I would've cared anyway. Eating for free is one of life's greatest pleasures, of this I am sure.

So after I ate and crashed for a few hours, I called up my former neighbor and met her at a party in the city (I never know which arrondissement I'm in, by the way). What I love most about house parties in Paris is that I always feel comfortable as I am. In the States, I would always feel out of place for not having the best clothes or the "flyest" pair of shoes or sunglasses on. Oh, and while I'm on that tip, WHO THE HELL thought wearing sunglasses inside was cool? I blame this trend on Jay-Z, Usher, and whoever else thought they looked cool wearing a frickin' pair of Ray Bans to a party.

After the party, we left with two of her friends to head to Montparnasse for one more Kebap! I'm gonna miss Parisian junk food, even though the American variety suits me just fine. I'm glad I got to go out in the city at least one more time before a nine hour flight in first class.

Ever flown first class? I doubt I'll ever be rich or picky enough to pay an extra $1,000-1,500 for a flight, but that's not to say I didn't enjoy sitting on a giant recliner chair, drinking wine while watching any one of various terrible movies. I didn't get a chance to watch Mamma Mia, which I heard was good, but I don't see myself watching Pineapple Express or The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor ever again. In regards to the former, I really don't get fratboy humor, nor do I think Seth Rogen is funny. As for the latter, save for a cool fight scene between Michelle Yeoh and Jet-Li, the film is devoid of redeeming values.