I snuck back into Paris after the airport back to Phil's house to spend a quiet evening alone before returning back to the airport in the morning. I didn't call Sébastien to let him know that I was around for one more night because our send off was perfect yesterday and could use a night to myself. I left Phil's house at 7am ready to head back to Charles de Gaulle via the RER at Châtlet in the hopes of making it to New York today. Like yesterday, I stopped at Comptoir Turenne for hopefully my last café allongé. Unlike yesterday, there was no ride, no cute boyfriend and definitely no kisses. Meh.
I got to CDG in about an hour, stopped at the little machine for a another coffee that I gulped down outside of the terminal and proceeded through customs and security like a pro. I saw all of my 'friends' from yesterday who wished me "Courage!" that I would fly out today. I made it to the gate with an hour and a half to kill and walked up to the counter and the same agent from the day before would be boarding the passengers again for this flight. "Hello..again!" I said cheerfully. She returned my enthusiasm, said hello and had told me that yesterday when she put me on the list for this flight, she had checked me in and that I was the first Family Passenger on the stand-by list. Good news! I thanked her and sat with the other passengers to read my book. I sat next to a young girl. Again. Not quite as young as the girl from yesterday, she was in her twenties and less annoying. She started talking to a girl next to her saying that her mother was working the flight and was trying to get back to New York. In essence, she was me. Unfortunately, the flight looked pretty booked and we'd probably both get left behind. I had been left behind with other Family Passengers before and we managed and bonded over our common way of traveling over lunch or drink and pass time before the next available flight. If she got stuck here over night I was thinking how I'd help her out or show her around the city. She was adorable. My illusions of us posing in front of the Eiffel Tower were immediately smashed to smithereens when I overheard her saying that the flight was oversold and that she knew that there was another Family Passenger like me trying to get on but since her Mom was working the flight, they were going to kick her off the flight and get her on instead of the other Family Passenger. Bitch! No Eiffel Tower for her! I immediately whipped my phone out and speed dialed my Mom who was sleeping in New York and walked away out of the girl's earshot. "Mom! Mom! Wake up, sorry!" I said in a frenzy. She was groggy "Mom, there is another Family Passenger who is trying to get to New York but since her mom is working the flight, they are going to try and give her the last seat available. My seat! In theory. Is that allowed?" My Mom woke up immediately "That's not fucking allowed. That's against the goddamn rules! Whose there? Lemme tawk to them. Pass the phone!" she barked. "Mom, I'm not passing the phone. I just wanted to confirm with you that since I was first on the list and waiting since yesterday that they can't give her the seat because her Mom is working the flight, right?" I said creating more hysteria than necessary. "Right! Ella! I've had to leave you behind a few times because there were others ahead of you. Remember Milan?" she reminded me. Of course I remember Milan. I got drunk on Prosecco at the airport and they almost didn't let me board the second flight because I was 'tipsy'.
The flight started to board and the gate agent welcomed all first class passengers to board the aircraft and coach followed. I waited until all of the full fare passengers had boarded before walking over to the desk to check the status. The young girl followed where we waited side by side. The gate agents saw both of us and began to talk amongst each other. Because I speak English when I'm at Charles de Gaulle and my passport is American, with good reason no one assumes that I speak French. They said that they were going to let the young girl have my seat because her mother was working the flight and confirmed to each other that it was completely against the rules and giggled while pressing there fingers to their lips to imply shhh. I couldn't believe what my ears were hearing and seeing. The shhh gesture was just embarrassing. I still waited. I wanted to see if they were going to actually follow through on their rouse against me. They printed out the boarding pass and in slow motion I watched them hand it to the girl. I walked up to the counter and in French said "Excuse me but I know that I she is a Family Passenger as well but since I was first on the list, how is she boarding?" I asked calmly while my heart was racing over the fact that I was speaking up for myself. I wanted to make the shhh gesture to let them know that I was on to them but that probably would have been taking it too far. It was tempting though. The gate agents froze in horror because for one, I was on to them and two, the stupid American does speak French and understood their little Charlie's Angels scheme that they were plotting in front of me. They immediately called their manager over and a large African woman named Marie appeared and was told that I had a 'problem'. I was scared. I said "No Madame, I don't have a problem but I would like to know if I will be flying as well because someone who was after me on the list was issued a boarding pass." Marie came two inches away from my face and started yelling at me in French telling me to leave her and her crew alone, that I was harassing them and that if I have a problem I can call headquarters in America. It was horrible and completely irrational. I desperately tried to reason with her, "Madame, I'm not sure why you are yelling at me but I heard your employees say it was against the rules but they were going to do it anyway. I have been trying to fly out since yesterday. I'm not trying to make trouble but it just doesn't seem right." She stormed off cursing me to hell and high water to her colleagues that I was a bitch and a horrible person. Horrible person? I thought that was pushing it. Come on, Marie. You seem tougher than that. I just called bullshit on you and your crew. Voilà.
I heard more conversation amongst all of the agents and because they now knew that I understood French, they spoke softer while huddling around their desk and every so often peeking back at me. This was a joke. I heard big, bad Marie look at me and say to her associate "En plus!". En plus what? I didn't do anything to warrant an initial plus so why the en. The non-Marie gate agent then approached me and asked me if I had anything else to wear. Wear? As in clothes? I was wearing a knee length striped dress, a cardigan and ballet flats. Just a briefing on company policy, Family Passengers aren't allowed to wear jeans, flip flops or sweatpants and need to dress appropriately, which I always abide by including today. No where in the manual does it say no striped cotton A-line dresses. I looked at her in disbelief. She accused me of wearing a t-shirt. She was giving me a hard time because I busted her and her crew. Since time was certainly not on my side, I had to act fast and arguing with her was out of the question even though she was being ridiculous. There was not a bathroom in sight, so I ran into the Hugo Boss store changing room, slammed the door behind me and frantically looked for the key to my suitcase lock to pull something out to change. The clerk pounded on the door and told me to get out or she was going to call security to escort me out of the airport. Ok, I didn't want to be escorted out of the airport..en plus. There was no time for the bathroom, it was on the other side of the terminal. I left Hugo Boss and said fuck it and opened my suitcase in the middle of the terminal. Keeping in the same navy and red motif as my original outfit that was deemed inappropriate, I pulled out my red and navy floral skirt that I bought at Express in 1991 (it totally still works) and put it over my "t-shirt". I put the sky blue chunk knit cardigan that I had on before but realized that while it matched, the texture wasn't right for a spring floral skirt and opened my suit case again to fetch a lighter navy blue cashmere cardigan. The stripes and the floral actually worked quite nice together and I went back to the agent, who I'm sure was expecting a catastrophe outfit based on the 4 minutes that I was issued to change. In public. She gave me a once over and the French 'Bravo' facial expression. She was impressed. So was I. I can be a resourceful little gal when the pressure is on. So take that Marie and non-Marie.
Suddenly, the girl that was given my seat was back in the terminal and was crying. They had pulled her off the aircraft, rescinded her ticket and issued it to me. I felt like a piece of shit. For the record, she was wearing a striped summer dress too.
I got on board and stood with my bags when I heard the flight crew talking in the galley behind the curtain. "My daughter got kicked off because another Family Passenger complained." You could hear the reactionary gasps of disbelief from other flight attendants. "What a stupid bitch!" "What a low-life!" "Who does such a thing?!" Then I heard one ask "Where's the list? Let's find her." I could her the shuffling of paper behind the curtain. "Oh here, the only Family Passenger. Seat 2-B. She hasn't boarded yet" the disgruntled mother said. "Well when she does, she going to wish she never opened her big mouth and then boarded on my plane." a flamboyant flight attendant assured her. There was a cheer of laughter against me with hoots and hollers on what a low class loser I was. My heart was racing, I did not want to go to seat 2-B that was staring back at me. I was in for some serious flight attendant hazing and you do not want to feel the wrath of a pissed off flight crew 20,000 feet in the air. They can get nasty. All eyes were on seat 2-B and I gingerly walked over to it and I saw three flight attendants look at me with squinted eyes. For the record, I did not complain, I simply reminded them of the rules while in turn reminding them that there are Americans who do speak and understand in French and its probably not wise to speak about someone in front of their face, especially when said person is sleep deprived and you are toying with the fact that they will be stuck in the airport. Again.
The flight was uncomfortable to say the least. I was in first class and refused to take anything that would be prepared in the back. Several times, I'd hear someone say "trash" or "low class" by a crew member coming up the aisle; clearly directed at me. My friends get jealous from time to time that I fly for cheap and more often than not sit in first class. but as the old saying goes, 'You don't get something for nothing' and I generally pay for the flight one way or another. This time my dignity was for sale.
