Au Revoir

 AU REVOIR

November 1

The Cross of Lorraine at La Patine/Juno Beach

Time to say, "Goodbye" to the land of our bucket list trips and head home. We had done a commendable job of packing and getting ourselves ready. Susan decided that to complete the experience of Paris she should check out the little balcony outside our 5th floor window ... and did. Given my healthy respect for (some might say fear of) heights, I did not feel such a need. 

Our Albar balcony

Instead I went down and "settled up" with the hotel, then we wheeled our luggage down and awaited our driver. This one had had a charisma bypass and didn't seem particularly interested in earning a gratuity, but he got us to Charles de Gaulle inside of an hour. The lines at Air France were daunting, and I was a bit apprehensive about the checking in and boarding process. Fortunately I remembered that our Delta Sky Priority membership, courtesy of my wife's dedication to flying business class, translated to equivalent perks for their partner airline, Air France. Check-in was a breeze. Not even a hassle about the weight of or bags.

We still had a good 2 hours before we boarded and were feeling a bit peckish, as our Aussie friends would say, so went in search of breakfast/brunch.  Our flight was to leave Paris at 2:00 PM their time, and we figured (correctly, it turned out) that we'd be served lunch an hour or so into the flight, so we didn't need a feast; just sustenance. We found a restaurant with an appealing menu, and although there was a little wait for a crowded table and uncomfortable chairs, the waffles and coffee were just what I needed. 

The next challenge was to find the duty-free store and make some last minute purchases. Susan went in search of souvenirs for the grandchildren and I for wine and hopefully Normandy's famous Calvados (an apple cider brandy, in case you've forgotten). Susan had limited success with souvenirs, and I had luck with wine ... but the snooty Parisian attendant acted as if I had asked for some of Jed Clampett's corn squeezin's when asked about the Calvados. That enlivening drink would have to remain in my memories. 

The flight back to Atlanta was about 8 hours and was as comfortable as a flight of that length could be. Susan, a perennial shoo-in for the U.S. Olympic sleeping team, was recumbent in Business Class, and I was quite comfy in Air France's Premium (formerly Premium Economy) seat. (I should mention here that based on my experience flying to Europe in 2023 I expected the Airbus plane we flew over on to have roomier and more comfortable seats than the Boeing 777 on which we returned, but the opposite was true.) My neighbor on the flight to ATL was much less chatty than the one coming over, so I alternatingly dozed (although my body clock recognized that it was still afternoon and early evening), read (I recommend Barbara Kingsolver's Demon Copperhead), and edited my hundreds of photos from the trip. We actually arrived nearly a half hour early in Atlanta, got our bags (which were doggedly among the last down the carousel going and coming), caught our shuttle to the off-site parking lot (with the aid of a very friendly, chatty driver  from whom that last Paris driver could've learned a thing or two, and were soon cruising toward our daughter's in Birmingham. (After a week of leaving the driving to Metro, navigating a car was initially a strange experience.)

When we arrived in Birmingham, our daughter, son-in-law, and granddaughter had just returned from her high school's football game in which she played in the band. We had a nice visit, ate a light meal, and turned in for the night. After a leisurely Saturday morning of conversation and coffee, we got back in the car for the last leg of the trip and drove home to Starkvegas. Our alma mater, Mississippi State, was hosting the Minutemen of UMass in our homecoming game that afternoon. I joined my daughter-in-law and grandson at the game (my son and youngest granddaughter were miles away at a soccer tournament on the Miss. Gulf Coast, which her team won!). Fortunately for Dear Ole State, UMass was even worse than the then-just 1win 'Dogs had been, allowing State to double their wins for the season and more joyfully celebrate homecoming. It was good to be home!  Dorothy was right; there really is no place like home.

One postscript: As a math major for 3 years, I feel that we proved a theorem: There is a direct relationship between age and the time it takes to recover from jet lag and transcontinental travel. Rather than the accustomed day or two, it was a good week before we felt caught up on our sleep and started feeling like human beings (though ancient ones) again. 

Okay ... two: I plan to take a few days to rest and reflect on our experiences, then write an Epilogue of the trip. You're welcome to join me when I do.