It's a beautiful Sunday morning in Douglas, Massachusetts. The storm that struck most of the New England coastline on Saturday has gone and left us with gorgeous sunshine rubbing up against chilly temperatures.
Our departure from Paris and Charles de Gaulle airport went smoothly, if a bit awkwardly.
Drea came by the apartment a little after nine in the morning Wednesday, and we handed her the keys to our home, said au revoir, and carried our bags downstairs.
The shuttle van was right on time, in fact a bit early I think, and we pulled away from rue General Renault just at 9:30. Traffic was appallingly slow and we crawled our way through the city streets, the driver making his way eventually to Montmartre where he picked up another couple, Canadians, also going to the airport.
Once out of the city proper we made good time and before long found ourselves at terminal 2E. We unloaded our bags and walked inside. No sooner had we relocated our bags on a handcart than Susan discovered her carryon was missing – she had inadvertently left it on the van. After a series of aborted phone calls I finally got through to the shuttle dispatcher. Susan went back outside to wait for the driver while I was standing in line waiting to check in. Twenty minutes later Susie joined me with bag in hand.
And speaking of bags, it soon became clear that the Air France check-in procedures had been designed by the Marx Brothers and executed by the Keystone Cops. In fact everyone seemed to be hovering just at the edge of anarchy and utter chaos. Anyway, by the time we got to the agent’s counter seating on our flight was at a premium. Fortunately we still had seats together but they happened to be in the middle of a four-seat center row.
After dropping our bags off we passed through security, quickly and without having any body cavities explored. By the time we got to the departure gate there was very little wait time, so I suppose there is always a silver lining. At the departure gate we discovered that the Keystone Cops were in complete control of coordinating several hundred people getting from inside the terminal onto the waiting busses that took us out to the tarmac where our plane was, a 747-400. There we waited and waited and waited to be offloaded like cattle, and be led up the one stairway into the plane.
Well after what seemed like two hours we were loaded, the doors were shut and we were taxiing down the runway and then full throttle and we were airborne.
The flight went surprisingly smoothly and quickly. Sitting in the middle was not really bad at all, the food was OK, and in typical French style they kindly offered champagne as an aperitif. Nice touch. The multimedia was quite antiquated, limited to a handful of overhead monitors in the aisles no less – so I kept to my iPod and loads of podcasts to catch up on.
Upon arriving in Boston, a bit early I might add, we whisked through passport control (there’s a switch we thought), waited for our bags and then headed outside to the shuttle bus to Framingham. Traffic leaving Boston was even more sluggish than the traffic leaving Paris earlier in the morning and we crawled mile after mile until at last we pulled into the bus depot where Susan’s brother Dick was waiting for us.
Less than an hour later we were unpacked and relaxing in Dick and Dorothy’s home, and after a wonderful dinner we went to bed still reeling from the fact that we were no longer in Paris.
Thursday we just caught our breath and relaxed around the house, spending a little time out shopping for groceries.
Friday morning we headed into Providence, met with our realtor and checked out our new flat: the closet organizers are installed and things are moving along. We close in less than two weeks now and the movers bring our household goods from Vermont four days later. Then it’s a new life in a new place.
Saturday New England was hit by the tail end of Hurricane Noel and we just stayed inside, read, cooked and planned our future. Saturday night all the clocks in the US "fell back" by one hour. Well we had already gotten an hour back the previous weekend in Paris, and here we were to get a second free hour. I doubt that will happen again.
Wish you were here,
Steve
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