Drama to Charles de Gaulle

We weren't even on the plane and it started. Is this a sign?

I arrived a little early at the airport. The Super Shuttle came early and zipped to the airport. Liza did not. I was aching to celebrate the start of the trip with a drink so after she arrived and finished a phone call we headed to eat at a greasy spoon called Roadhouse. Our very Asian waitress (at the Roadhouse, mind you) seated us and rushed us into ordering drinks (Liza got a strawberry daquiri and I got a dirty martini--she rushed us!) Our drinks arrived with our also rushed food order. I inhaled half of my turkey panini and Liza took one bite of her pulled pork sandwich when a gate attendant walked in and started asking people questions. Liza went over only to find out they were looking for US as our flight was ready to depart. What?!

Okay, so maybe we were distracted by a bunch of good-looking college guys, by our taking silly pictures with our drinks, by the fact that everyone kept staring at Liza (it's those magical eyelashes!) or by our high-pressure waitress. Regardless, the gate attendant asked us to grab our food and go with her. I knew right then that we shouldn't listen to her. Liza didn't get the same feeling. In anticipation for what was to follow I downed my martini and received a "did you really have to do that" look from the gate attendant. I reluctantly grabbed my plate of food and followed Liza and the now pulled pork sandwich toting gate attendant to our gate. When I felt it was safe (and after cramming about 10 fries into my mouth) I dumped my plate into the nearest trash bin.

We were celebrities! All the staff at the gate and every seated passenger we walked by stared deeply at us. No one smiled however. Maybe we got stares because of the gate attendant now turned waitress. Maybe it was because Liza apologized to practically every single person we passed. Or it could have been that we were probably paged like 15 times before we were forcibly fetched to the plane. We'll never know, but I'll blame it on Liza. No, not just the apologizing part, but the whole thing! I will note here that her pulled pork sandwich hung around for a while before she finally felt enough time had passed to dump it.

The flight was fairly uneventful. The guy in front of me reclined so far back I could have given him a dental cleaning. The guy behind me protested strongly when I had the gall to try to recline myself.

Air France served us huge amounts of food! For dinner we got a salmon turrine, grilled chicken with potatoes and mixed veggies, salad, more veggies, cheese, bread, grapes and cheesecake! I had two bottles of free red wine. The crew weren't terribly friendly, but it wasn't too bad. We slept most of the trip anyway.

Upon arriving we found our gate after a Liza I lost my ticket scare. We wanted to go out, but it was about 35 degrees out. Liza wanted to brave it with her flip flops on. I convinced her otherwise. Instead we opted to get pedis (I also got a mani). They were marathon sessions! They were very nice to us. Liza's guy needed to get her French pedi perfect, as if the country's reputation with a toe/fingernail painting style was at stake. I have a picture of the almost finished product. I didn't dare show the ragged talons with which she started! My guy would give us blank stares. It was a little odd. I got a picture of the two brave souls. Just when we were done, Roger showed up! He had a full day of touring Paris.

So now I'm at a cyber cafe with Liza to my right and Roger on wifi to my left. The keyboard is different so I'm constantly having to go back and retype letters. My hands hurt now! I'm going back now to fix my typos before I run out of time. Next post...somewhere in South Africa!