Oscar Wilde Slept Here

We arrive at the hotel. Larry took the elevator, no way that I was riding in there with him. Europe is claustrophobic to this American.

Next to the elevator picture is my hero pose. No that is not Schwarzenegger. I grew a beard to keep from being confused with Brad Pitt, plus sometimes I am mistaken for the governor.

Look at the beds. Though we may have been in a hotel that Oscar Wilde stayed in while in Paris in 1899, we had no desire to emulate him.

We moved the beds far apart every night when we returned "home" and sure enough when returned the next day, the beds were back together again. This scenario would be repeated in Jerusalem, but I don't believe Oscar Wilde ever stayed there.

There was no way that I was sleeping next to that dipstick.

We didn't stay in the room long. Larry said that we needed to go out and see Paris.

Next we go to the Palais Garnier the location of The Phantom of the Opera where I told Emily that I was applying for a new job.

Paris Unexpected, A Modern Industrial Town

One of the shocks to my mind on the trip from the airport to the hotel besides the molecule thin misses of pedestrians and other vehicles was that Paris actually produces things. There is a poster from a company that inspires me, but I must disagree with said poster to my sadness. In Paris, I actually saw people working very hard on the roads. In the United States I have only seen 2 or 3 instances in my whole life where the sign "Men Working" on the highway didn't make me think that it was written for a comedy. One of my college roommates said that when he worked for the highway department that he would smoke a joint or two daily to relieve the tedium. Far be it from me to even suggest that such a thing would go on in these wise and enlightened times, but sometimes my evil suspicious mind wonders.

Back to the trip in Paris. We were moving a little fast, what you saw on the video was a reasonable version of what we experienced in slow motion.

Larry in his parka and I on the edge of death rode to the hotel.

I Was Best Man at Larry's Wedding

Some may be worried after reading the last post that there is or was friction between Larry and me. Nothing could be further from the truth. Larry visited me last Friday and Saturday morning. We grew up together, shared a room, roomed together at college before he joined the Navy. In fact, I was best man at his wedding.

We correspond daily or talk daily on the phone. Please let your minds be at peace about this.

A Tale of Two Coats

Saturday, March 21, 2009 approximately 11:00 AM: Outside the Charles De Gaulle Airport waiting on our shuttle to the hotel.

Larry had begrudgingly loaned me this diaphanous windbreaker which in stark contrast to his parka-like winter coat that he had. See his haughty demeanor as he rushes ahead of me in this photo taken later in the day. In contrast to this I put up a brave front as I am waiting on the shuttle in the hope of a little warmth. It was a tad cold in what has laughingly been called a coat. But Larry didn't care. As you will see in the next few episodes, he seemed to have studied the following for inspiration for our little jaunts.

Finally before hypothermia set in the van for the hotel arrived.

We were greeted by an East Indian or Pakistani (both groups don't like being confused with the other) Parisian who very graciously helped us with our baggage.

Our driver spoke excellent English and performed miracles while driving, no one outside or inside the van was killed. I find it interesting that while Larry was impressed by Mitterrand's building projects in Paris, the driver said that he would rather have the money in his pocket.

We will discuss Paris as an industrial city and the trip to the hotel in a future post.