Eight Days of the Week
I awaken at 6:30, after another restless night, and take some medication for my sinuses, and some aspirin. I can feel the congestion in my lungs, but the air is cool, and I am breathing easily. Shortly thereafter, my son gets up, and his mother, my wife, whom I miss a lot, as we have had no privacy. In awhile, the wake up call comes through, and we get the last bit of stuff together, and proceed to our last breakfast.
The coffee is good, they serve it American style, instead of espresso, and it is not at all bitter. I have taken to using jelly with my croissant, and work through the plum tin. There is also a mini- baguette, I cannot think of the proper name, I am still waking up, and I will use raspberry for that one. My son sips his tea, and there is a bit of orange juice, delicious but, again, tepid.
We retrieve the luggage, and I settle with the desk. The hotel was in the package, so I only have to pay for a couple of sodas and a call or two, less than 50 francs, about $6.50 at current exchange rates. Then we await the van, which is cutting it close for boarding times, considering multiple fares and passport checks and such. I cannot relax until I am sure we are at the airport on time, and even then, there will be chores.
Picking up a couple, they are not ready, and the van blocks an alley while the driver inquires of them. A couple of taxis, driven by an Asian and a North African, are blocked, and my wife is afraid there will be a fight, but the driver returns before they get too angry, and the couple is out of luck, they had not even gotten out of bed yet.
We zip through the city. Given the medieval confusion of the side streets, and the number of one way streets, it is amazing how rapidly the taxis and vans can get around. Of course, the boulevards and larger streets are not so bad, but they all use shortcuts and esoteric routes, like Rosicrucians of the road.
Finally, we are on the highway, and I say farewell to Paris, lovely but somehow light- minded, the city of charming frivolity, where even great art is treated with a certain insouciance.
At the airport, we are stand in a line that would be perfectly endurable were there some ventilation, but which is stifling without it, and I feel the congestion in my lungs begin to count as I over heat. A nice fellow comes to check our passports and luggage while we are in line, and finally we are checked in! We get on an escalator only to discover that we have to walk around the terminal to find the end of the line, which is slow moving. Fortunately, there is more of a breeze; unfortunately, there are more bodies pressing one another, so it a draw.
Eventually we get to the end of the line, our passports perused, and we get to sit near our gate. I brought some water, so I have some help clearing my throat. Finally, we get aboard the plane, another large one, but this time booked fully, so there is no stretching out. I have a nice chat with a Quebecois woman who seems to be studying in France, and her boyfriend, and the flight is fairly smooth, and there is the sheer pleasure of seeing a "Seinfeld" episode, in English, or watching an Action flick. But I do not move from my seat for hours on end, and I get no sleep, as we pursue the sun.
On the way over to France, the sun "rose" about 1 AM Eastern Time, in this case it never sets, and it is a bit after 2 in the afternoon in the States, although it is about 8pm in France. We have a connecting flight to Washington, and it leaves in 90 minutes. Some imbecile did not consider that we have to go through customs first, taking us ever further away from the other terminal we need. Furthermore, a flight from Madrid has arrived, and there is a horrible tangle of people waiting to get through.
After the first check- point, we have to go to get our bags and talk to a customs agent, who will decide if we look shifty and need to be searched. Amazingly, we find someone with a weekend place down the road from us, near the Bay, and he is satisfied with our chitchat, and clears us.
The last room we were in had poor ventilation, again, and I am breathing hard and sweating by the time we go to recheck our bags, so a Sky Cap helps out, and gets us on an Avis bus to take us to the necessary terminal. The only problem is that we are dropped by the baggage carousels, and it is a big haul to the gates. By this time, I am just feeling sick, period, as we hurry along, and I finally decide that I will ask for one of those motor carts to take us to the gate, because I am afraid that if I stop to collect myself, we will miss the flight.
Fortunately, they were amenable, since I obviously was unwell, and we got to the gate on time. The flight takes very little time, and we got to Reagan National on time, about 4:30 PM, got our bags, and got on the shuttle to the long- term parking. I was thrilled to see the beautiful airport terminal, with all amenities; to get in an air- conditioned shuttle bus; to see my car again, and not bump my head getting in.
Driving out, I looked at the trees, and the flower beds adorning the airport, and I was so happy to see them that I missed my usual turn into Washington, and rode up the George Washington Parkway, on the Virginia side of the Potomac, looking at Washington, until I crossed over to Georgetown at the Chain Bridge. I caught a street that eventually took me past American University and connected me with Massachusetts Avenue. I drove past the National Cathedral, which sits on the highest hill in Washington, like Sacre Coeur, then down Embassy Row until Dupont Circle.
I went up Connecticut Avenue to Chevy Chase, across East- West Highway, to Silver Spring and my favorite deli. I had borscht and chopped liver and a smoked fish platter, and iced tea with as much ice as I wanted, and the waitress was attentive and eager to be helpful.
When we left, I was dog tired, so my wife drove, and we took Rock Creek Parkway through the middle of the city, down to the Kennedy Center, Lincoln Memorial, Washington Monument, national Mall, past the Capitol, the Union Station, up North Capitol Street, out New York Avenue, then home to Annapolis. It was beautiful............ |
