Paris in 48 hours. Yikes! I had a very vivid dream that I left for the airport at 7:45 for an 8:30 international flight. I actually woke myself up with the screaming. So, I finally started getting my act together. I now have Euros - did you know the bills are different sizes? - I have a pseudo list of what I want to do/eat, I bought a Vanity Fair for the plane, I've been practicing my aloof bitchy look and the few words of French I expect to need ("Do you speak English?", "Where is the nearest croissant?", and "Do I look fat in this?") and the travel plug adapter that I do in fact need. I'm ready.
Sure, I haven't tackled the issue of clothing and fitting the 4, ok, fine 3, pairs of non-sensible 'standing' shoes into the leopard print wheelie carry-on I plan on taking. I know, can I be more snooty with this bag? But it was a free swag bag and they're pretty indestructible. And, so far, only one person has said I look like a stewardess. Not flight attendant, stewardess.
Here is a picture of a room at the hotel I am staying at:Here is a picture of the room I expect to encounter once I arrive:
After freaking out because I couldn't find the hotel street on any map anywhere, and thinking it didn't exist or that I'd taken up real estate on some star named Murray, I finally determined that it is directly across the street - sorry, rue - from the Louvre.
Yaaaayyyy!!! I'm finally doing this!