It’s midnight, but it’s also 5 o’clock somewhere! So since it’s late afternoon on my body clock, I’m wide awake and am supposed to be wide awake again in about six or seven hours. Plane ride snoozing did not happen. I had forgotten about the treatment business class passengers receive.
“Would you like some champagne?” Of course.
“How about some wine?” Why not?
“Another glass?” What’s the harm?
I forgot about the harm. I should have remembered what happened to me the last time I flew abroad and was served bottomless Malbecs. High air pressure and wine do not mix well. By the time I woke up, I had quite possibly the world’s worst migraine ever. Since Excedrin Migraine is my cure-all medicine, I took it on an empty stomach. Within 30 minutes, I was migraine-free, but my stomach…well, it wasn’t faring so well. By the time my family piled into the taxi cab, I was swearing off pre-vacation plane ride celebrating forever.
“I think I’m going to be sick. Right…now.”
The taxi driver, who was in the middle lane of the highway, quickly pulled off to an exit. Russ offered two or three Kleenex…not quite sure what that would have done, and the taxi driver grabbed two copies of his drivers license and amazingly pulled together some origami-esque, make-shift basket-like contraption (I still don’t know how he did it). As amazing as it was though, that still would have failed to fulfill its original purpose. Alexandra offered the only reasonable solution–pull over. It wasn’t the most grand of entrances to Paris.

An hour and one chocolate croissant later, I was feeling much better. We checked into our hotel, the Hotel Saint Germain de Pres, and proceeded to wander around the town. As it turns out, the French have been extremely friendly. They get a kick out of Alexandra because they can’t quite figure out why the kid is the only one who can speak their language. Later in the day we managed to catch the Tour de France ride through the city. That was interesting, but not quite as entertaining as one of the events preceding their grand arrival. The roads were blocked off by gates and members of the French National Guard (or some equivalent of that). Essentially, you were NOT allowed to cross the street the bikers were riding in on. Much to everyone’s viewing pleasure, one little old French lady in a bright red jacket decided to defy that rule. She hopped the gate, ran across the street, and ended up smack in the arms of a French National Guard. I didn’t know the noises she made were humanly possible. This lady was maybe 5′ 1″, and it ended up taking the strength of two huge men to carry her back across the street–literally. She wasn’t calmly walked. She was thrown over their shoulders while she spat and squawked and yelped and snorted and yipped and grunted and…yeah. It really was a spectacle. The cherry on top of the cake came when they tried to get her back over the fence. She wouldn’t calmly walk back into the open gate. She dropped to the ground, curled into a ball, and they had to roll her body back through the gate. It reminded me of trying to stuff my cat Tigger into her cat carrier to go to my parents’ house the other day. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to get my camera out quick enough to capture the entire thing on camera. I did, however, capture some amazing break dancing going on outside of the cafe we stopped at for dinner. I hope you enjoy, and I’ll keep everyone updated. It’s off to the Louvre tomorrow!