NOTHING is easy

August 4
Yesterday was a tough day on a number of levels. The first and worst was that Emily returned to the US to enjoy the remaining days of her summer vacation at home and in preparation for returning to University. She was my exploring and shopping buddy and sadly for me, I’ll be on my own again for the most part.

Our day started off pulling the remainder of her stuff from about the apartment and packing and repacking the two suitcases she’d need to get home. She didn’t really need two to get her things home, but she needed to bring our “big-ass” red suitcase home so she could truck her stuff from Boston to Baltimore next month. Big Red will make it back to Paris when Carrie comes for a quick visit in September. Note to self: ask Carrie to stock up on Soft Scrub for me!

After a last sweep of the flat, we grabbed our train tickets and hit the pavement for the RER station around the corner. We were in luck, the next train to Charles de Gaulle (CDG) Airport was due in six minutes and woo woo...it was an express line. We could be at CDG in 35 minutes.

The train pulled into the station on time...you have to hand this one to the French...their mass transit system runs on time (when they aren’t on strike that is). We boarded and settled into three seats together, with the luggage strategically positioned between Bill and Em so they could move it if folks needed to pass from our car to the next. Everything seemed to be cruising right along up through Gare du Nord, but upon leaving that station, we seemed to be traveling a bit more slowly. Not bad though...so we were going to be on the 40 minute side of the trip but still not bad. We’d have time for un café before Emily went through security at the airport.

As we left zone one of the transit system, things seemed normal. Departing zone two found us slowing down a bit...and once we hit zone three or the outer ring of Paris, we were crawling...what the heck? This is an express line! Then, we STOPPED at Bourget. Wait a minute, there is no stopping on an express train. We sat at Bourget for about 8 or 9 minutes....more than enough time for the “deaf” woman from another car to come in and place on every open seat a couple of cheap trinkets and a bi-lingual card, which explained she was deaf (alternate translation don’t bother trying to talk to her) and she would really appreciate it if you would buy one of her little tourist “tchaztchies” for 2 or 3 Euros or give her a gift certificate to a restaurant as she was hungry. Right...first of all, she must have had fifty or more gee-gaws in her backpack, which she laid out about the train car...she had to have paid at least 8 euros for her ticket (so 2 euros x 50 things + 8 euro = 108 euros more or less...stop buying junk and go get some food!!)...and yeah, I always carry restaurant gift certificates on me...pardon me for seeming cold-hearted, but I have been witness to at least 4 different deaf people on the trains since arriving in Paris seven months ago...this is a scam, or France’s socialized health system is sorely lacking when it comes to deaf people.

Well, after a garbled announcement over the PA, which we could only assume reassured us that once on our way, we would head directly to CDG terminals 1and 2, we were moving again. And for the first time in my 10 years of infrequent European train travel, a passel of 6 ticket takers entered the cabin and began checking and stamping tickets. This was really unusual. The trains are pretty much self service...you buy a ticket from a machine...run the ticket through a scanner...enter the station and upon arriving at your destination, you run your ticket through another scanner to get out of the station...and most people are good about this as the train system is at 8 euros comparatively cheap considering it can cost around 60 euros to take a cab from the center of Paris out to the airport (and it takes roughly the same amount of time too). After punching tickets in our car, half of the ticket takers moved on and three took seats in the middle of the car...riding with us all the way to CDG...3 or 6 ticket takers was a bit of over kill. The train was not overly full and our car had maybe a dozen people in it. Hmm...curiouser and curiouser.

Finally, we arrived at CDG 2, the Air France International Terminal and with no time for coffee headed on up the escalators to....a huge crowd of people waiting at the bottom of stairs and outside the elevators. At the top of the stairs were several armed soldiers, never a good sight when you need to check in. A few intrepid travelers ventured forth to ask the stern looking soldats what the 411 was and in as few words as possible and only in French said there was a bomb threat in 2E. The bomb squad was called in to investigate an abandoned piece of luggage...damn.

On the bright side, we left Paris with the goal of arriving 3 hours before Em‘s flight and even with the less than express train ride, we still had plenty of time to check her in. After about 10 minutes, a whistle blew and we along with a couple hundred other evacuees dashed for the baggage check-in...you didn’t forget Big Red did you? Being seasoned travelers, we looked at the departure board and saw that Boston bound passengers were to check-in at Section 5 of Air France Airlines. We dodged and dashed our way through the confusion and hit the queue in a matter of minutes. Granted, it was a LOOONG line, but hey we were good...boarding for the Boston flight was still 2 ½ hours away. Emily had already checked-in on-line, got her boarding pass and we just needed to drop off the bags.

Standing on line in Europe is completely different that standing on line in the US. From the time we were knee high to a grasshopper in grade school, Americans learned to stand in line one in front of the other. Not so in Europe and the French have perfected queuing en masse to an aggravating art form. Before we learned a thing or two in the old days, Bill and I would line up, quietly and politely waiting our turn to move forward and often found ourselves not moving forward and actually losing ground in line without having taken a step. So armed with experience and knowledge and elbows out...we kept pressing forward. We did meet a couple of master line jumpers though...a couple of women with luggage carts that would make Paris Hilton proud, I mean on these carts contained enough luggage, boxes and bags (including a 32” flat screen TV) with which had to be valued at least 50% of their country’s GDP, pretended to be with someone further in the line and they deftly unhooked the belts that served as line guides and pushed their way about half way through the crowd. They struck up a conversation with people around them and then a few folks figuring out they had been duped tried to get an Air France Official to help...right...not gonna happen. So we waited and then it happened...a shrill whistle blew and our check-in area was being evacuated for another bomb scare. A suspicious package was found right outside the terminal doors, not 50 feet from the Section 5 check-in. Police and soldiers waved at us to evacuate the area...but no one was giving instructions...just a lot of whistle blowing and waving. Finally someone...I couldn’t say who instructed us in French to move to Section 3 and we could continue to check-in there. There were already hundreds of people there and they were not moving...as in they were not going to let those of us whose child had a flight at 1:35...boarding at 1:05pm move forward to make an expedited baggage drop...not that nor were they moving...period. The baggage belts had stopped, computers were off-line and no one seemed to know what was what.

At this point, a very patient Air France representative (a rarity btw) came to the entrance of the queuing area and attempted to direct people to other check-in areas and or escort people with boarding passes for flights within the hour forward. Enter the tour group bound for Bejing...their flight was scheduled to depart at 1:45...and it had been delayed on the big board by thirty minutes, but being in the mass of confusion called a line, were unaware of the change. The tour leader muscled her way through the waiting ticket holders and proceeded to holler in English at the Air France lady. It wasn’t pleasant, lots of pointing, poking and arm flailing and after trying to get Madam Mao to calm down, the Air France lady had to call the police over...and he brought machine gun toting soldiers with him! With a nod and pointing the gun to a holding area for tour groups, the Chinese were quickly and quietly escorted to a time out. There they would wait for another hour! I know because we watched as we snaked our way toward check-in. The nice AF lady looked at Em’s boarding pass and told us to stay in our line and I thanked her and said “Bon courage”...meaning to imply, you know good work and keep the faith sistah...whereupon, she grabbed my arm, smiled at me and tapped her forehead on my shoulder as though the momentary gesture would sustain her for the ensuing rounds with angered passengers... the power of kind words.

Well we resumed standing on line and each time I looked at my watch, the time seemed interminably slow and unceasingly fast. With less than an hour before boarding, we were still two hours from checking those bags. We talked about just chalking this one up and heading back to the city...but Emily wanted to give it a go and at least make her case for as close to a guaranteed seat on a flight later in the day or the next. Bill left us in line in pursuit of information and just as he returned with news that Emily’s flight was delayed for 30 minutes, an Air France official announced that all flights scheduled for between 1pm and 2:30pm were being delayed and that they were working hard to help everyone make their flights. At last, information and we were only three people away from the check-in...at 1:15pm.

The lines were still a mess and the AF people were getting edgier. Further down the check-in counter, a frustrated passenger was told that she and her family had been standing in the wrong line and the AF rep would not be able to help her. As they say in the Gen Y alphabetic lexicon...OMG! Talk about a nutty! The customer, who for circumstances way beyond her control, found herself in an untenable situation only to have a customer service person tell her “I cannot help you”, did what any hot blooded French woman would do...she threatened to beat the AF representative...climb over the counter and beat the ever-living “merde” out of her. (I learned a whole new vocabulary in those moments!!) The police were summoned and lo and behold, after some screaming, baton waving and crying a miracle occurred...the AF counter person amazingly was able to check the family in and the police escorted the now time crunched passengers to security for an expedited run to the gate.

Well, more than one person noticed that scowling seemed more effective than smiling and rumbling and grumbling rolled through the ranks. An increased AF representative presence among the rank and file became evident and contrary to common sense, rather than trying to nip skirmishes in the bud by problem solving, the representatives challenged people to just try something and they too would be met by immediate police action...huh?

At last, we made it to the counter...the nice man (again, a rarity at this point) smiled at us and checked Emily’s bags, as we smiled at him. We chatted about living in Paris and he tested my French a little. He looked at Big Red and told us that normally economy class passengers could check one bag for free and that we’d be charged for the larger bag, but because of all the confusion and our apparent lack of animosity, he wouldn’t charge her the $25. Wow. He handed Emily her boarding pass and baggage claim and wished her a bon voyage. He assured her that even though her flight was boarding in 10 minutes, they would wait for her. I offered my hand and a “bon courage” and in return received a hearty handshake and a smile filled merci beaucoup.

We checked the pass for the gate number and compared it to the board...not the same...Emily showed her pass to a security agent and he put her in the “yellow” line. Because her boarding pass listed gate 41, he thought she was on the later flight to Boston. We told Emily we would stay at the airport until she texted us she was on the plane. She should have gone in the orange line for gate 37, but it was too late.

She arrived at gate 41 and no one was there...the board listed the 7pm flight but not hers. She called us and we told her to run to gate 37...that was where her plane was. She asked the agents at gate 41 to call down to 37 and let them know she was on the run...surprisingly they did it...and with literally 2 minutes to spare, Emily’s butt hit her seat...she was going home.

In the meantime, Bill and I made our way out of the craziness and away from all the gun toting security toward the Sheraton...we were going to camp out there until Emily was in-flight. With a couple of glasses of champagne to calm the nerves and the good news text, we toasted our baby and the end of the crazy.

My dad use to say to us, “Nothing is easy” and he also taught us to reply to said statement with, “Nobody ever said it would be.”