Paris, Here I Come!

In my customary procrastinating manner, I saved all of my packing for the last minute. Even if I had wanted to prepare in advance, this week would not have allowed for it; I got back from a short sojourn in Vermont on Tuesday evening, and devoted Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday to spending time with Alex. Wednesday, I went to work for the morning, and then headed up to the Bronx to Fordham, and then to Yonkers in Westchester, before returning home just before midnight (yikes!). Thursday was similar; I met up with Alex in the early afternoon and we spent the day together. Friday, I went into the office for my last day of work. I have to admit, it was bittersweet. I've worked there for many months, and have received nothing but kindness and support from all the agents and other interns who work there, not to mention learning “valuable skills” and meeting “important contacts.” I closed the door for the last time feeling melancholy, and then proceeded to meet up with the boy. It was a fantastic day, filled with fun, good memories, and tearful goodbyes. That night, I went home feeling a whole range of emotions: from happiness to sadness, love to loneliness, and expectation to apprehension.
The next day, when I woke up and realized that, “oh hey. I need to get ready for my flight that leaves in less than twelve hours,” it still hadn't really clicked with me that I was leaving. Yes, I am admittedly a blonde, but come on, I'm not that clueless. I calmly packed my stuff into two small bags, and got ready for my flight at 9:45 PM from JFK.

The flight was dull enough—then again, I suppose that's a good quality for a flight to have. As per usual, I caught up on movies that I had been too lazy to see, like Inglourious Basterds which was all together more violent and more awesome than I had expected. Thankfully, I did not have talkative creepy neighbors like the last time I flew alone to Paris aka Mr “You are the fourth blonde I have watched.” (If you don't know what the hell I'm talking about, please check out the link at http://madeleine-b-m.blogspot.com/2008/06/ooh-la-la-parisian-spree-part-i.html . I promise you—it's worth it.) There was an almost-contender for the creeper-of-the-flight award, an older Egyptian man who sat next to me in the terminal, asked, “Are you from New York? What do you do? What's your name?” before I politely excused myself to make a phone-call. Otherwise, the flight was quick, I got to sleep a little, and before I knew it, I was in La Belle France.

(*Cue French laugh.*)

Huh, huh, huhn.