Thursday, July 21, 2011

Adieu to Paris

I know that you don't want to hear another story about the Metro.  We didn't ever want to see the Metro again, much less rely on it for something as vital as getting to the train station in time for our 7:24 departure.

We are still trying to figure out why the subway station (nearest our hotel) didn't ever have anyone manning the ticket counter.  Our best guess is that we weren't really in a touristy area, so maybe they assumed that everyone getting on at that particular station would have a pass...or something...?  Anyway, for whatever reason, there was no one to sell us a ticket that morning, and after the weekend we'd had, we were smart enough to plan for it.  As I was curling my hair and packing to leave (it felt so good to finally have a curling iron...and deodorant, and a comb!), I proposed a plan of action. 

"Okay, so this is what we're going to do.  When we get to the turnstiles, I'm going to give you both of the suitcases and the two small carry-on bags.  Then, I'm going to stand on the waist-high turnstile and jump over the six-foot-tall barrier.  After that, I will turn around and act like I'm going to exit the Metro, which will open up the double-door barrier.  But I won't really exit--I will open it in order for you to get through." 

No further conversation was needed.  The plan was flawless, or so we thought...

We left the hotel, crossed the street, and went down the stairs at the Metro sign.  I was so excited about our clever idea that I had to refrain from bouncing down the stairs.   

I handed Jamie my suitcase and carry-on, and enthusiastically ran ahead of him to execute the plan.  I quickly hopped over both barriers, and then gave him the cue that the motion sensor would be opening in a matter of seconds...not realizing how far down the passageway he still was.  When I turned around to set the double-doors in motion, I caught a glimpse of him--running towards me with both suitcases twisting behind him.

We should have waited until the doors closed, so that we could set the motion sensor off once again...but the adrenaline was already flowing...and there was no stopping it. 

Jamie made it right smack in the middle of the doors, just in time for them to close.  Directly on him.  Well, they couldn't close completely; one gate was competing with his stomach and the other with the small of his back...but they continued pushing against him until they realized that no one could really win the raging battle.

Meanwhile, I was right there...painfully watching every possible unpleasant expression pass over Jamie's face.  I was waving my hands frantically over the sensor, trying to give him some sort of alleviation, but he was stuck--and laughing was the last thing on my mind.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the gates opened up again.  In the exit-way of extermination, Jamie had dropped the suitcases.  So after a moment of relief, he fumbled around, trying to gather the suitcases again...meanwhile showing me where this rib hurt and explaining how good it felt to be able to breath again when Wham! the gates closed on him.  Again.

And that time, I did laugh. 

And he limped onto the subway, and moaned all the way to the train-station.


  1. I literally laughed out loud when I read this one! Especially when he got stuck the second time! :-) -charissa

  2. I would be just devastated! Afraid of going on! Did anyone video tape you guys doing this Laurel & Hardy skit or Three Stooges in Paris? lol :-) (Poor Jamie taking such a beating while you laugh)

  3. I LOVE these stories!!!

  4. Your blog makes my day brighter. Please don't get a big girl job and stop. It is my entertainment. I look forward to them like reading the next chapter in a great book. I can't wait for the next one. Stop cooking and get to typing. Love ya!! Liz

  5. LOL...thanks, friends! Your comments make me smile...and they make MY day brighter! :)

  6. Had to reread your travel adventures again. unbelievable....Sounds Keystone Cops....... I hope to get my wife to Space A travel with me. Rich