As I mentioned before, my trip half way across the world went without a hitch. For someone who had hopped from aircraft to aircraft on stand-by tickets during President's Week, it's a marvel that I'm not stranded at O'Hare waiting for seats to clear up on oversold flights and preying for no-shows. I have experienced getting stuck halfway through a trip more than I'd like to admit where there was not much to do, except eat and try not to get too drunk at the airport bar.
I am grateful to the travel gods for making my trip happen, and more importantly the fabulous flight attendants (Paris, JFK and LA based crew - thank you!) that kept me entertained with gossip in the galley and stocked with vodka in my glass.
Before getting back onto American soil at CDG, I was boarding the plane, waiting on the cold air bridge when I noticed some of the mechanics and cargo crew - who poor things must have been frozen little popsicles in this weather - preparing the plane. I gave them a sympathetic look, told them to stay warm and wished them a bonne journée. While the others smiled and wished me a bon voyage in return, my polite concern especially caught the attention of a young guy who could not have been older than 23, who winked at me as I passed with my roller-board in tow. Only in Paris, I thought to myself, smiled and made my way to my seat.
After nestling in, and taking out the flight's necessities; my iPod, my cardigan, and putting on my navy blue Monoprix "in-flight slippers", I anxiously cracked open the trashy novel that I was have been devouring when I looked up and saw the mechanics boarding the plane for cross check before take-off. The young one from a few minutes earlier spotted me in my seat and winked at me - again. At this point I had to run through my head what I had said to him to make sure that I didn't accidentally make a French sexual faux-pas. After go over our very brief exchange, I was in the clear, nothing I said could have possibly been misconstrued as an invitation for sex.
The mechanics came back through to exit the aircraft as more passengers were boarding, approaching them in the opposite directions. The young one took this as an opportunity to tuck himself in my row and stood in front of the vacant seat next to me as the other passengers were making their way passed him down the aisle. He then turned to me and whispered, "Do you speak French?" I responded that I did which prompted him to hand me a piece of paper. Confused, I mindlessly accepted the paper that had his phone number, name, Davide and an illustration of a rain cloud. "Call me." he said with a smile and slipped away before I could tell him that I wouldn't be calling him. I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't impressed by the rain cloud drawing.
I quickly called Seb who was at work and told him what had happened, "Coquine, indeed," he said with a chuckle where I could sense he was shaking his head, "Paris will miss you, especially Davide and I, bon vol, babe."
As the plane was taxiing out Davide, wearing his little protective ear muffs and puffy coat, was waving to me from the tarmac as I looked back out of the window. Out of consideration, I thought about trying to gesture to him that I wouldn't be calling him back but figured he'd probably forget about me by the end of the day and just waved back. It was the cutest little thing I have ever seen happen at CDG and the perfect way to leave Paris reminding me why I love this place.
