So after 14 hours of airport time punctuated by suddenly realizing I left my keys in the security tray at LAX, I landed at an Airport. And the first thing that struck me was that I could be anywhere.
It was very early in the morning, so almost no one was talking, but hey i am in an Airport so that really doesn't help narrow my location. I looked out the windows and saw the usual assortment of plane logos. I am astounded that I still recognize as many as I do. It was raining and bleh so I couldn't see sky lines.
The Signs were in French and English so I had narrowed down my location to Canada or Europe. Both are places I have visited multiple times so that was a good sign.
The rest of the airport looked shabby and rundown. There were exposed pipes and drab color choices. I ached to escape from the building.
I was sure I would know as soon as I saw the cars outside. i was wrong. Everything looked like all the cars I usually see. Same boxy shapes with melted corners. They did have the big yellow license plates so I was comforted that I had gotten on the right plane but I was starting to feel sad that someone had changed France since the last time I was here.
I heard people speaking french so I started to assume I was where i thought I went but I really wasn't sure. I thought they had committees to make sure that no matter what part of France you were in, YOU WOULD KNOW YOU WERE IN FRANCE?
Finally fatigue and heavy traffic overwhelmed me. I nodded off dreading a vacation in a McCity somewhere in Europe instead of a Parisian adventure I was promised. I started mentally counting down to the time of my departure...
Suddenly I snapped awake. Matt was screaming my name. I was facing the window when my eyes popped open. What greeted them made me smile like a mad man.
Beautiful buildings and restaurants with dirty orange neon telling me that there was wonderful food to be found within. The streets were filled with equal parts cars, little boxy trucks and people of all sorts on scooters and motorcycles. and then I heard that beautiful sound...weee-honnnn wweeeee honnnnn WEEEE HONNNNN
A passing police siren. A french siren!
Speaking of Sirens, I took note of the women of France. As I have mentioned before, there is something about the french woman that is infinitely more interesting to me than any other. There was a woman riding a scooter in the rain yet she was wearing an ensemble that included these cute low heel almost pixie-like boots. Young women walked the street in outfits that coincidentally matched the umbrella they held above them. Older women walked in Business Sexy clothing that let you know exactly what gender they were without ever sacrificing their apparent ability to do business.
And there was smoking. Just a "matter of fact, I am having a coffee and I need to smoke to complete the look" cigarette hung from the mouths of people. Not in a haphazard manner but just sorta there in their mouths.
I don't know what was up with the airport. Maybe it is a test to see if you really want to be here. Maybe the French haven't gotten around to fixing it up. Maybe they have just sacrificed it to the heathen outsiders that used it knowing they have much better things in the city. All I know is I am in no hurry to get back to that aberration on the landscape of French culture.
