Jamie inserted his ticket and made it through to the other side. My ticket was--again--not registering, but eventually I heard a click and I quickly pushed through the first turnstile. I was immediately face to face with the second barrier, which for some reason did not open. Instinctively, I tried to push my way backward--but the turnstile was locked. My hands were beside my face and I couldn't move; it was tight. Parisians are skinny...and they don't cater to tourists. And no, I couldn't squeeze through the itty-bitty gap on the side of the barrier (it's much smaller than it appears in this photo). I quickly told Jamie that I was stuck; as if he couldn't see the panicked look on my face through the hole in the barrier. He, in a most sensitive voice (that was clearly masking laughter), assured me that he was going to find a way to get my out of there. And just as he was examining the barriers, and pulling here and tugging there, an angel walked in. I was saved by a local with a smirk on her face; she didn't speak a word of English to me, but she scanned her ticket and quickly pushed us both through. Just as quickly, she walked away, as I repeated "Merci" over and over again until I sounded like a broken record. And at that moment, I was convinced that all Parisians are not rude and insensitive.