"That Iranian man needs to stop grabbing my feet."

In Paris. But that doesn't mean I'm "in" Paris. I'm passed the point of exhaustion into delirium, my stomach no longer feels hunger, and I can't find a wine opener. In fact, I had to trek down to this MACDO for effin' wifi. Ce n'est pas chic.

However, while today may not be perfect (as in, pre-Paris it was horrid), it is symbolic of a fantastic six weeks to come.

The plane to New York, on the oh-so-"happy-jetting" jetBlue, was one of the scariest of my life, but the ads are true--there is a lot of legroom! My flight to Paris, however, was no laughing matter. The airline itself, Swiss (which, like the country, is an offshoot of Air France) was very nice. The food was well prepared and the wine was great. I had a great neighbor, as well. A Bulgarian woman who said only two things to me the entire flight. "I like this international wine" and "hold this tray." After we both watched Milk on the back of our Iranian fore-neighbors' seats, I turned to her and asked her a probing question about the gay movement in Bulgaria. She nodded, and went back to munching on her roll.

(Milk was, by the way, one of the greatest films I've seen in years, and definitely left me proud. Not only is Sean Penn the reincarnated Harvey Milk, but Emile Hirsch was excellent as his slutty little activist. The only off-note was Diego Luna. Both the character and the acting was a fail. But aside from him, I think everyone must see this film at one point in their lives. Preferably before another Prop 8, thx.)

So, as I tried my best to stretch my 6'2'' body in the chair space apparently built for Swiss midgets, some awful man in front of me proceded to drop a endless amount of something on my feet and fish for them under his seat, invitably grabbing my big toe and attempting to extract it for his use. Later, once all of the window shades had been forced closed for everyone to sleep, he kept his open. So, throughout the "night," the bright headlights of the Swiss sun shone in my eyes, rendering even the notion of sleep impossible. But it's okay, I couldn't have slept in that seat anyway. The entire time I was just shifting positions, and by the time we landed I think I had completed an entire yoga session. Downward dog, tree position...at one point, I had a modified crane stand while crunching a water botttle in my groin to prevent my legs from sweating in my (admittedly tight) blue jeans.

But I am now here. At a MACDO, using their wifi while a burly manager walks around wondering why my friend Sarah and I haven't bought anything.

Because it's MACDO, you idiot.

1 comment:

Christie Lauren said...

I love the first post! Witty, light, visual, and above all American. Je t'adore! Je voudrais post deux s'il vous plait! XOXO Votre fille americane