Rawr
Seven days of travel have reached their natural conclusion. My traveling companions and I are quite sick. We all have a vile sore throat-and-fever combination. It’s probably a French childhood disease that we would have been immune to had we grown up there. Hopefully, it’s not The French Disease (or The English Disease, depending on who you ask).
I’m off to gargle saltwater and possibly faint. Hope everyone is well. I’m glad to be home, but Paris was difficult to leave.
If you have six or seven hours to dedicate to dinner and post-dinner drinks, you will discover the delightful absence of hangover or hunger the next morning. No wonder Parisians take so many vacation days. They are needed to eat properly.
Gentlemen take note: Gui brought roses to all the women at dinner. I’m just saying.
I won’t detail the series of bureaucratic ineptitudes that led to Chris missing his Air India flight, and the rest of us being transferred to a different airline without permission or warning that our flight would leave TWO HOURS early, but we did spend the flight singing the famous South Park song: “Blame Air India”.
Just to be clear: Do Not Fly Air India, no matter how cheap the tickets or how intriguing the meal selection. Avoid this carrier at all cost, unless you can somehow guarantee that you will be transferred to a different airline.
Paris is beautiful. I’ve been eating like a horse. But hopefully not eating actual horse.
Snails, however, are quite good.
Tonight, we fly to Paris on Air India. Stay tuned!
Tomorrow morning I’m getting on a luxury Cornell bus to New York City (the place I don’t live, despite everyone’s impression when I say I’m from New York State) for a week long vacation. Yes, I said vacation.
For possibly the first time in years, I’m traveling for non-work reasons. I’m meeting my librarian buddy Kara at the Newark airport and we’re going to spend four days hanging out with friends and being tourists, damned tourists.
We’re gonna shop, ice skate, lunch, and work on our French. Because midweek we’re jumping on a plane to Paris.
See, I found these $350 tickets on Air India, and my French friend and Cow-orker Gui knows this guy who runs a hotel, and he’s having a big birthday bash, and well, the stars just aligned.
So, moo ha ha, everyone. I’ll write some more on the bus tomorrow. I love everyone’s comic suggestions, by the way. That’s why you are the librarians and I am just the librarian-poseur who works on websites.
Off to pack my toothbrush and slinky red dress.
Did I mention Moo Ha Ha?
So here’s what my family of first and second-generation geeks does on Thanksgiving once the stuffing has been consumed:
Caterwauling at five AM, running and thumping. The cats have found a mouse, but don’t know what to do with it. The mouse is golfball-sized and terrified. Plover has trapped it in the fireplace and taps it gently with his paw. I grab a plastic bowl and prepare to clap it over the mouse. He makes a desperate escape into the cupboard. I apologize to the cat for mistrusting him. He’s been scratching at this cupboard for several days. The mouse is gone. The cats stare for awhile, then curl up in a ball together on the couch, grooming each other in congratulatory triumph at their splendid adventure.
1 edited post
2 jobs (one main, one side)
3 hubcaps remaining on my urban assault vehicle
4 weeks to hire a java programmer before Rob leaves for parentville
5 months of backpay to go with my promotion
6 days until we cook Thanksgiving spanokopeta with tzadziki
7 issues of The Ultimate X-Men by Brian K. Vaughan left to read
8 thank yous to write this weekend (thank you!)
9 fingers I’m not holding up to the haters out there.
10 minutes until I fall asleep on this keyboard