I see Paris, I see France...

Somewhere between LA and Paris I lost my new necklace that my mother gave me on my last birthday and I’m angry at myself even though I can't help a broken clasp. That's how I'll start out the journal of my trip. It's all uphill from here.

The trip over was quite comfortable; I had a whole row to myself and spread out to sleep after watching BLADES OF GLORY, which was cute, especially after a nice, big glass of wine. Did you know that US Airways - otherwise known as "the one airline I will forever more avoid" doesn’t serve free drinks on international flights anymore? I can't believe it, all that money and they can't fork out for a couple lousy drinks? Just confirms my suspicion that "duty free" booze doesn't necessarily mean "cheap" booze, because if it did, the "one airline I will forever more avoid" would be able to buy a girl a drink.
Anyway.
I met a nice woman who conversed with me partly in French, partly in English…and mostly in arm waving. I arrived in Paris at about 8am, and found my way from the airport on the RER to the Chalet les Halles stop and transferred to the metro without much problem. In the metro, I got stuck in the turnstile, which has these tiny plastic doors that open when you insert your ticket, but mine closed on my backpack and I was wedged like a turtle unable to move either forward or backwards. After muttering a loud “fuck” but before having time to do anything about my predicament, the door magically opened, releasing me. I felt like an idiot. Stupid, stupid American. Anyway, I got off at the right stop, had some trouble finding my hotel but the room was clean and quiet. Just fine pour moi. I was wide awake, and should have stayed that way but I was just exhausted and the thought of having to speak French was stressing me out (why, who the fuck knows.) So I took a nap, and didn’t wake up till 5 pm. To refresh myself, I took a shower in the toilet (oh, wait, it wasn’t in the toilet, just so close I could have used it as a stool) and then I walked down and took a peek at the Eiffel tower and it’s swarm of tourists (how did Tom ever propose to Kat in that mass human ant hill under the tower? He loves that schmit I guess. Anyway, I walked down the Champs d’elysee a little and poked my head into Adias, Roxy and Zara…sheesh, it was like being at home except “home” was costing me 1.80 dollars to the euro. I did walk by some couture shops where I thought, this is what they were thinking about when they came up with the term Haute Couture. Beautiful. Anyway, I never did eat dinner, couldn’t stand having to try to butcher the French language trying to order. So all in all, I haven’t eaten since last night. I have a feeling though that starting tomorrow, I’ll make up for all that by scarfing down tons of food over the next two weeks.
...Which indeed, is exactly what happened.