After dropping off Pépé I headed straight for security, since this time I’d managed to get Vueling to deliver my boarding pass to my phone. Security was a piece of cake, and soon I’d made it through and eventually found my way to the Priority Pass lounge. Signs were very poor, and I couldn’t seem to figure out I needed to take the escalator upstairs.
At this point, I was starving. I hadn’t eaten any real food since breakfast, and it was now late afternoon. I probably should have grabbed something in Llívia, but wasn’t really thinking. I was praying for some food in the lounge. Um, no. here were a couple of stale looking sandwiches, cheese and crackers, and peanuts. But there was beer. Local beer. Which kinda made up for it. Beer on an empty stomach is good, right?
About 30 minutes before boarding I headed to the gate, and there was already a line 100 deep forming to board. Ugh, the indignity of flying low cost carriers. Eventually an announcement was made…in spanish only…to split into two lines…one for the first 15 or so rows, and the other for the last 15. Everyone looked confused…because most of them were french. Translated for a few nice old ladies, and managed to skip ahead in line a bit. It was a mess.
Vueling flight 8244
Barcelona, Spain (BCN) to Paris, Charles de Gaulle (CDG)
Depart 17:00, Arrive 18:50, Flight Time 1:50
Airbus A320, Registration EC-MBF, Manufactured 2008, Seat 14D
Flight was about 95% full, but fortunately the E and F seats in my row were empty…or were they. Two 20-something french guys moved into them from the row behind…but I wasn’t going to argue about it.
The flight attendant came around to do her safety briefing…asking first if we spoke Catalan or Spanish. Si. The two french guys gave her a blank look. She asks again “do you speak english?” Another blank stare. She tries to tell them in English that they must move, because you must speak Catalan, Spanish, or English to sit in the exit row. They looked at her like she was an alien.
At this point, the door was closed, and it was delaying the flight. None of the crew, it appeared, spoke french. So, in order to get the flight moving…and maaaaaybe because I wanted the whole row to myself. I translated…explaining to them. They wanted me to tell the flight attendants a long story about how they knew what to do, they could handle it, etc. I started telling them….and the flight attendant raises her voice. YOU. GO. TO. YOUR. OTHER. SEAT. NOW. OR. WE. WILL. TAKE. YOU. OFF. THE. FLIGHT.
Reluctantly, they finally moved, and we were under way.
About 15 minutes into the flight, as the crew was starting the drink service, I went to the washroom. I came back to find them in the E and F seats again. I told them the flight attendant was not going to be happy…and they just gave me a shhhhh!
Well, they came around with buy on board, and the fireworks started.
The flight attendant tried once again to tell them they couldn’t sit there. It ended with the two of them up in her face, and two other flight attendants’ faces, in the aisle, just shy of yelling at them. “Why can’t we sit there? Is it because we’re french? Why don’t you speak french when you fly to france” No translating needed, they weren’t even listening at all. Finally the flight attendant threatened to “have the pilot land the plane” and one of the french guys called her a “racist spanish pig” and took a swing at her.
Out came the zip ties. In a first after 2,000,000 miles of flying, I had to help a flight attendant hold down a passenger while his hands were zip-tied behind his back.
Oh, and he still didn’t get to sit in the exit row…and I got my pringles and beer comped
Upon landing, we taxied past Concorde:
The Gendarmes met the flight, and I had to walk with them to an office and give a statement. Only took about 10 minutes, and I was pretty pleased with myself that my french was adequate for giving an official statement. Let’s just hope they don’t call me back for a court appearance or something. That would absolutely suck
Took CDGVal to the RER station, and ended up waiting nearly 15 minutes for a train. Straight shot to Châtelet, and then roughly a 10 minute walk to my hotel. I was pretty tired by this point after driving nearly 8 hours through Spain and France, but was determined to enjoy my night. Headed to Les Philosophes for dinner, where I had no problem scoring a table for one. It was nearly 9pm by this point so they were out of lots of things, but the restaurant was packed. Ended up having a nice chat with a couple from Québec on their honeymoon at the next table over.
But first, red wine and bread. I still don’t understand why red wine in France is always colder than anywhere else in the world.
…and an amazing onion soup, with onions from their own garden.
…and perhaps the simplest, yet most amazing, steak tartare I’ve ever had.
Unfortunately they were out of the apple tart dessert I wanted, but this chocolate mousse was absolutely terrible and went terribly with my wine
Now, it was nearly 11pm, and the smart thing to do with a 10am flight would have been to go to bed. I wasn’t smart.
Went back to the hotel, made a few phone calls, and a little bit after midnight, I was thinking “it’s only noon in Hawaii…if I go to bed now, I’ll never sleep in Hawaii. Let’s go for a walk.” So, I started walking.
Past the Pompidou, the Jardins de Luxembourg, up the Champs Elysée to the Arc de Triomphe. Back down Ave. Kléber to Trocadéro, over the Pont D’Iéna, and to the Eiffel Tower. It was an amazing stroll, Paris by moonlight, and absolutely magical. I’ve been to Paris probably 50 times, but this was a whole new side of Paris, and I loved it! Walked back along the left bank, and finally got back to my hotel around 5am…this was not going to end well…but it was 5pm…an appropriate nap time in Hawaii.
So, I aid down in my hotel for a 1 hour nap:
Alarm woke me up fortunately, quick shower, and I was out the door…the long trip to Hawaii was about to begin…again!