That time I was trespassing in someone's home, and other French adventures

August 20, 2014 Marcia Piper

Once the shopping for our dog/house sitter, running a back-to-back race, our engagement, and you know, all the laundry + packing was complete, we were off to France!

Coffee and a good book, mandatory.

Motion sickness, not appreciated.

First stop -- Toronto.

Communication mix up, extravaganza. We were told our luggage would be in Nice without having to reclaim it along the way.

However, once we landed in Toronto, went through customs, and arrived at the terminal to connect on our next flight we were told "you have to check all your bags at the first country you enter after your own".

What in tar-nation?!

So we got this dandy blue slip and were told to wait for an airport escort to take us back through customs, to the other side of the airport, to retrieve said luggage. Then, proceed back through customs and get back to the gate. Before our connection to Montreal departed.

Did I mention the lovely folks at Lambert checked both bags under my name so I had to go alone?!

I follow the escort back through the airport through the employee passages, which was quicker, only to arrive at baggage claim to find -- no luggage.

Told you.

Cue panic. Escort escorts me (see what I did there?) to the airline help desk where I tell them the novella of how our luggage is meeting us in Nice, not Toronto, him looking at me as if I had just drooled into a cup, and in true gold medal customer non-service, handed me a lost luggage form and asking me to "step to the side and fill this out so we can mail your luggage to your house". In the US of A.

Yeah no.

Long story longer he calls the plane, they unload our luggage and it arrives on the baggage carousel just as I finish the form and begin to totally flip the eff out.

Lug both 30+ pound suitcases back through the airport, and customs.

All the while I'm sending S.O.S messages to my sister and our friend whom we are meeting in Nice via Viber, and not Mark, because -- he deleted his Viber. And I did not have a international phone plan, so we sent sweet, passive aggressive emails to one another as I sweated profusely while waiting in the customs line.

Again.

Alas, we are reunited, all bags are accounted for and we sprint to the gate only to find out -- we missed our connection.

Mother eff.

After I am "dismissed" by the gate attendant to "stand by" and the flight leaves without us on it, I begin to send extremely nice-nasty tweets to the airline because, oh yes. No phone. Only internet.

Cutting to the quickest chase -- we got on the next flight to Montreal that was 30 minutes later.

Hallelujah.

Seats have phone chargers.

Genius.

After we landed in Montreal we made the fastest of beelines to find alcohol, and food.

In. That. Order.

Then, a nap in the terminal because lapping the Toronto airport is exhausting.

All praise to Jesus we had plenty of time to find food, walk around and browse before our final flight into Nice.

Who sleeps on planes?

Not I.

So I binge watched season one of Motive, saw bits of "It takes two" on in flight entertainment, woke Mark up to "entertain me", and read between semi dozing.

Finally -- Hello Nice!

What my life looks like after a days worth of flying.

A disheveled, smelly mess.

This is the face you make when we contemplate walk/bus/cab all while dragging our earthly possessions in the humidity I only thought was possible in Missouri.

The love we had for one another in that moment was -- immense. #whosonfirst

The walk from the bus stop to our AirBnb was a block, two tops. But when you are following your phone map and it doesn't realize its an apartment, you walk around in humid circles asking people for help in your quest.

Or, you walk into a building that says "office" only to realize it was someone's home, and get yelled at for trespassing, in French.

Oops.