The car rental counter at Roissy (CDG) takes forever. It’s most likely no longer of a wait than at any other car hire, but after a sleepless night on a freezing flight, it felt like hours. The wait was not exclusive to us; small bunches of people were scattered about the rectangular building.
One group had a small boy, maybe a year and a half old. I’m bad with ages. He was big enough to be walking and running about and speaking some words, but not articulate. Anyway, he was making long but cutely energetic laps of the place, like a tot-sized mascot sent to improve the waiting renters’ patience. His mother had come to our end of the building several times to retrieve him from the tension barriers when he lingered too long.
His group had started to move out of the door at the far end of the building. As his mom turned her back to that exit, he trundled right out the door. The group, caught in a few moments of discussion, did not immediately follow. Mom spun around and couldn’t see him, and began to panic. And rightfully so, as he was outside the building, halfway between the mom’s door and the door closest to our counter – and very close to the busy road connecting the parking lot with the airport exit road.
I pointed outside and while his Mom went out her door, I ran out my door, caught the kid as he was heading down the ramp and into traffic, spun him ‘round not unlike a turnstile, and sent him back to his mom. #RightPlaceRightTime
I was always told that I’d never be able to dive because of my ears. AD, the diving instructor, had been using a special earplug for years. He makes them to allow the pressure to change while keeping water out. He made a pair for me and they worked a treat!
I earned my open water certification today.
As a kid, I was fascinated with diving a shipwreck. Now I can. Well, I’ll need further certification, but I’m *able* to make this dive.
My old passport is now a souvenir. The new one is empty, giving me nothing to read while standing in a customs line and nothing to bring a smile to my face when I recall a trip memory. I was two squares away from filling it – too many drives to Canada sans stamp, I suppose. Here’s to the next decade!
Things NOT to do when staying in a small space/ tiny apartment with other people:
*Put your shoes under the radiator.
*Leave wet towels on the (only) bathroom floor.
*Use all the hooks in the (only) bathroom for your dirty clothes.
*Leave dirty dishes on the counter, island, and in the sink.
*Not throw empty yogurt containers in the trash.
*Not rinse wineglasses so they get smelly and stained.
Things NOT to do when traveling with other people:
*On a cold day when car windows can’t be opened, take you shoes off in the car.
*Change the GPS route en-route without telling the driver. Or, if driving, don’t listen to the GPS when it’s routing you away from a traffic jam, thinking you know better.
*Continually reference someone’s dietary restrictions at every meal stop/dining opportunity.
In twelve hours, I’ll be at the airport. The hardest part will be leaving the house, leaving the cats. I have an excellent catsitter, it’s more the idea of leaving them. Once we leave the house, things’ll be easier.
Until then, stay amused:
And the Piece de resistance:
If you only watch one, watch this one. You will never hear this song in the same way.
I went to Germany for two weeks at the end of November. The most meaningful part of it was a short email, sent very early Thanksgiving day. Along with the simple sentiment of “Happy Thanksgiving”, it detailed the happenings of Thanksgiving prep and the schedule for the day — no earth shattering news, nothing to save the world, just words describing what could have been happening in nearly any household in the states. Those words brought me home for a moment, brought me away from the hectic and mildly uncomfortable surroundings enveloping me, and meant so much to me. Nothing beats a letter from home. Thanks, Dad.
Ice bar at Red Square, in Mandalay Bay. The vodka in the glass is from Kazakhstan (i believe), not the bottle pictured.