Day 8

Day 8 dawned. We'd reached our last day in Paris...or so we thought.

It was, I must say, the first day of the trip--in either country--that we'd woken up early enough for breakfast. We packed pretty quickly, and sat around for awhile waiting for our shuttle/cab to come--they were late.
Trust me, it becomes important later.

The ride to the airport wasn't that long, except that the driver insisted on playing this terrible American slow jazz the whole way. We had planned on being at the airport about an hour and a half early, and it was about an hour and ten when we arrived. We found a counter that said Air France/KLM/Delta and got into line. When we got up to the front the woman said that this was the Air France counter and we needed the Delta counter, since they were handling the flight. So we went around to the Delta line and before we could get in line this woman barked "What flight are you on?!". We said we were getting on the 10:50 to Salt Lake City. She said "You're too late, it's closed". It was at this time exactly 9:50. When we protested that we were an hour early she said that we had to be 3 hours early. After a couple more tries of "But we're an hour early" she kicked us over to the Delta Customer "Service" counter. By this time it was 9:58. When we told the woman at the counter what had happened she checked the clock and said, "Oh sorry, flights close an hour beforehand.". We attempted not to explode but determinedly stated that we had been there an hour early, but she just replied that if they said no, it was impossible. She did at least make one call to the other side in which she said "'The 10:50 to Salt Lake. Two people...with bags.' Nope, sorry, they can't take you. Go over to Air France and see what they can do, cause we can't do anything." So we left Delta--that Great Whore of All the Earth--that Mother of All Harlots--that Whore That Sitteth Upon Many Waters--and prayed for help in Air France.

 

Boo...Hiss...

When we reached Air France, we were greeted by an attendant whom we immediately proceeded to engulf with our worries. This time though, she at least looked concerned. She took us over to another agent and explained our problem. This woman was incredible. I wanted to get a picture of her, but she said no, so the best I can do is tell you that she looked like this, but with a blue scarf:

She booked us on the same flight the next day, and must have spent an hour fighting to keep down the fees that we'd be charged for rebooking. She just kept getting transferred from person to person to person, but never gave up until we were taken care of. I love Air France. I will be making myself a "I Love Air France" t-shirt. Air France is...the holy Virgin--a Virgin Most Beautiful and Fair.

They also told us how to book a hotel for the night that was close to the airport, so we schlepped down to the curb and caught a shuttle to the Radisson. On board with us was a man that I can only describe as "Dr. McCoy" and Janelle can only describe as "scrumptious". I don't think I knew how close I was to coming back to America alone :)

When we reached the hotel, my oh my. All I can say is that bad girls may go London, but good virgins go the Radisson. It was like a fairy tale:

The photo cuts off half the room and was taken from our hallway. We had a hallway! And a large (large) TV, and a pretty amazing bathroom and we even had closets! We originally thought that we'd spend the rest of the day at Disneyland Paris, but it was all over when we got into that room. We just slept and watched movies for the rest of the day, except when I nipped down to the pool (which was equally fabulous, by the way).

We finished up that night by celebrating something that I'm not allowed to mention, so let me just say:

 

Hmmm...what a lovely cake...

That and Nellie's favortie--Coke Light--finished up Day 8.