Chapter 1: Bonjour!

Hello everyone! Apparently this is not working out how I originally planned. In fact, this is not actually chapter one - in the sense that it is the beginning of many posts I will be writing regarding my adventures in Paris yes, it is chapter one, but being done after my return to the states it is a bit of an epilogue. Or an epilogue trying to be a prologue. Or just a bunch of random thoughts as organized as possible. Sounds good to me...

Ok, here we go:

Thanks to my dad for the best advice ever: always keep a journal when you travel! Now, according to my first journal entry there had been several days before I got a chance to write down even the simplest thought (once a slacker always a slacker right dad?) I will include those events shortly. For now I'll do my best to start at the beginning and set the stage for the adventure that follows.

I remember feeling a grand sense of freedom while going to the airport. For those of you who don't know my history this was my first time ever traveling outside of the country with the exception of Tijuana (which doesn't count) and Victoria B.C. (which also doesn't count.) I was traveling alone, going plenty far, and upon my arrival may or may not have had a place to stay once setting foot upon foreign soil. That is if I were to get through Customs. So again: grand sense of freedom (fueled by grand sense of terror.) Plus not knowing more than a few French phrases to communicate with such as "Where is the toilet?” "I'd like a glass of red wine please" (still didn't get that one right apparently) and "My head has been broken open by a pitchfork. Where is the hospital?" I was less than comfortable in some respects. Lucky me. Actually that is true. I am plenty lucky.

Ok, so the flight itself (or airport experience rather) was actually very nice going in. Especially since I was flying to Paris stand-by. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that part. See how fun life can be! So the departing flights looked promising, security was friendly and unobtrusive, and I was at the gate relaxing at a promenade table in no time. I made the first flight to Atlanta no problem, having a nice chat about my adventures ahead to the guy next to me. It's nice to inspire people. I love my life.

Four hours, 18 minutes to Atlanta: no big deal. Eight hours, 30 minutes to Paris: big-ass deal. Or so I would find out shortly. I am thankful I flew Delta though; soft seats, televisions with comedy central (I was too excited to sleep despite my exhaustion anyway,) free eye-covers and headphones and - wait for it: beer. Yes, free beer! Life is good :) Unfortunately I didn't discover the free beer law until the flight back. Also unfortunate was the free baby opera/chorus sing-along I was set in the center of between baby #1 on my right three seats over and baby #2 two directly in front of me. Just turn up the Chris Rock Coire, everything will be ok. Oh and by the way: I got the last seat left in the whole plane in the very back row, far left. The engine was vibrating my butt I swear. See, crazy story right? And I haven't even got off the plane!

Average speed of 550 mph, 4,400 out of 4,600 miles and a little monitor showing a plane icon flying upon a yellow line charting it's path over seemingly endless ocean. When we passed over the western beaches of Normandy I felt the same freedom from earlier, only stronger and more unbridled. I was on my way and nothing was going to stop me.