Since Monday, Nov. 20, in no particular order I:
- saw the nautes pillar
- did a monkey dance
- saw a Roman archeological dig
- saw Notre Dame and decided it wasn’t worth it to go in
- kissed a girl in Paris
- caught a shooting star with someone who had never seen one
- found a new favourite air carrier (four words: “green skirts, golden apples”)
- was closely watched by the Illuminati
- had impure thoughts in a church
- realized I needed more work on my Latin
- realized I recalled more French than my 7th grade teacher would believe in a million years
- realized German, no matter how often I heard it, is simply impossible for me
- had really good chocolate (the jury is still out on whether I believe in really good chocolate)
- kissed a girl in the Vienna Christmas market
- saw more famous dead people (Falco!) than I had any right to
- lost three people in Vienna, and found two of them
- lost a bottle of tequila to pressure in the cargo hold, and soaked some poor sot’s bag with it, I’m sure
- slept with three women and one other man . . . in one bed
- spent an hour and a half with a shower buddy struggling to remove gold body paint
- finally got between Mazi’s legs
- lost all chance I had with a girl to a three year old
- had french fries that could only be described as “exquisite”
- saw signs for “Men with hats cross here”, “Men with hats go down stairs here”, and “Men with hats steal children here”
- had a crisis of conscience that would have been terribly funny from my perspective, but not so much from yours
- discovered that the sun does not shine in France, and especially does not shine at Charles De Gaulle (CDG) airport
- Became stranded at CDG on the way home and discovered the previous assertion is untrue, though we also discovered that CDG is designed after Charles De Gaulle’s nose: large, unsightly, and ugly
- learned that a hat, properly worn, can move you to the front of any line
- proposed to a girl in Vienna
- found Europe to be exactly like the US, just with a few new languages and monopoly money
- discovered the French are much nicer when you’re in a wheelchair, and customs are much simpler
- went fishing in shark-infested trashcans
- had a one hour layover turn into a 23 hour layover
- encountered the Great Mystery of the Missing Cheese Stick
- am now the proud owner of an Air France t-shirt
- managed to get my bags checked all the way through to Columbus, but not my travel partner’s
- will never fly Air France, into CDG, or go to Paris ever again.
