the best laid plans....

however the rest of that saying goes. We got to the Detroit airport yesterday in plenty of time for my flight. My mom decided that they would come in with me, just because. As soon as I go to check in, though, there's a problem. The plane that's supposed to take me from Detroit to Chicago is delayed wherever the heck it's coming from. The woman tells me that instead, I'll have to fly to Washington D.C. and then from there to Paris. I'm not cool with this idea. I'm supposed to be meeting people in Chicago. One of them is supposed to go with me to the hotel in Paris. I insist that there must be some other flight going from Detroit to Chicago, on another airline at the very least. Honestly, how many planes must fly that route each day? The lady feigns confusion, says if I stay on the same flight to Chicago I might miss my connection to Paris, blah blah blah. She obviously doesn't get it. So I just ask what time the flight from Washington gets in to Paris, and it's earlier, so I figure I can maybe meet up with them at the airport there.

Fast forward about 11 hours. I'm tired. I'm hungry. I'm crabby and my luggage weighs a ton. I've waited for about an hour and I'm done. Then I realize that I wouldn't be at the right terminal to meet them anyway, so pooh on that idea. I hop (ok, not so literally) on a shuttle that takes me to the metro. From there I take the RER (suburban metro) to Paris, then change lines, then change lines again. Stairs after stairs after stairs. My luggage is getting heavier by the second, and I feel like crying the entire time. It took me two hours to get here from the airport. That's frickin' ridiculous. CDG is 1/2 hour from Paris. Anyhow, as time goes on my mood only worsens, and I can't imagine how pitiful I must have looked throughout the whole thing. I will say one thing though-don't let anyone tell you that the French, especially the Parisians, are rude. I've never met so many nice people. A woman helped me get one of my bags off the train, two men carried them up stairs and down stairs for me. I don't know if I would have made it without them. It seriously would have taken me another hour at least. Anyhow, when I finally left the metro line, there it was: Paris, in all it's glory. I've never been so relieved to see it. Then I pull out the directions to my hotel, which say "turn around and take the stairs behind you." What?!?! Sure enough, two more flights of stairs. I had to stop several times in the short way down the street. I didn't even carry my bags in at the same time, but dashed in with a load, said "un moment" and came back with the rest. The hotel guys laughed at me, but I don't care. So there you have it: my arms might still be shaky, but here I am!!! I do think a taxi might be in order for Saturday though...

p.s. I just checked online for that Chicago flight because I wondered when the other girl was going to get here, since I expected her by now. Turns out the flight was 3 hours delayed in leaving, so it was 3 hours late getting here. I would have made it! Oh well, I'm glad I'm here!