From Tennessee To Texas to Saudi Arabia

We arrived to Paris late in the evening. I had marveled at the rotary around the Arc de Triumph on Google Maps, blissfully unaware that the GPS would dump me into this washtub on the way in. Everyone else in the family loved taking the arch in up close, while I was fortunate enough to face minimal traffic and hit the eighth exit on my first try. The roads were rather empty, so I could slowly creep through the city. We found the address and waited a few minutes for our host to arrive. We followed him in and up the listing stairs circling around a lift made for 2. He gave us a quick tour of the flat and handed over the keys. My original intent was to return the car that night, but the late hour convinced me to find a nearby parking garage and take care of it in the morning. Mom came with me, and we found a garage under the Palais Brongniart. It was a short walk back and everyone was ready to crash.

We woke up the next morning with the first order of business being the car return. I found the Avis office and got a map to the return location. We bid farewell to the clown car and headed out. I hadn’t scoped the routes in this part of the city, so the first route we attempted came to an abrupt stop and retreat when I spotted one of Paris’s many well-advertised adult- themed shops up ahead.

The delay from returning the car caused us to arrive at the Musee d’Orsady later than planned, and the lines waiting to get in were longer than I expected. We called an audible and headed on to the Musee Rodin. We took in bronze casts of many of his famous works, including The Thinker and various figures from The Gates of Hell, including a full cast. The gardens feel isolated from the city and are a relaxing place to spend a few hours.

We then headed towards the Eiffel Tower. We walked by Les Invalides, impressed by the size. We had it on the list of possibilities, but never had the chance to tour the Army Museum and Napolean’s Tomb. As we approached the Champ de Mars from the south, Mom and the kids peeled off to grab some lunch before we visited the tower. I had planned a picnic lunch for Greene and me. While taking in the view of the tower, we were discussing where we should eat. I pretended to “notice” a guy selling picnic lunches nearby and approached him. He looked up and said, “Brian?” Greene caught on and gave me the look I had been anticipating while planning.

We tried a ground picnic, but recent rains made that a messy proposition. We found a bench with a good view of the tower and moderate foot traffic to ensure good people-watching. In true Slick Brian form, the salad was soon inverted down my leg. The wine hadn’t even been opened yet. We had a rom-com lunch in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower, and a memory worth more than anything. It was a few weeks short of our 20 year anniversary, so we had a personal celebration in a place we never dreamed we would visit.

We headed to the restaurant to meet the rest of the crew. They were finishing up dessert, so we sat for a short time before heading out. We had tickets purchased already, so we got to avoid most of the line. The security did make us leave our empty wine bottle that we’d hoped to take bake as a souvenir. After a short wait at the bottom, we made our way up to the 2nd level. The line wound around the outside for the trip to the summit, so we got to take in the views while waiting for the second elevator. We all considered the wait to be worth it when we arrived at the top and spent time taking in the views.

We spent some time after our descent taking in the details from the ground again, and made a quick bathroom break…

• French bathroom story #4: It’s not even odd at this point. I used the urinal while avoiding eye contact with Greene, Mom and the entire ladies restroom line. More bat wing doors in tight spaces. C’est la vie.

We walked along the Seine up to the Flamme de la Liberte and then along the Avenue Montaigne to the Champs Elysees. We debated catching a ride back to the apartment, but decide the sights were to important to take in on the way back.

The evening consisted of separate events for the ladies and gents. The ladies were taking in a ballet at the Opera Bastille while the guys were headed to Stade de France to watch the French national team take on the Russians. The girls have a tradition started in Houston of going to Hard Rock Cafe before a ballet, carried on in London and now cemented in Paris. We had slow service and we had to hurry along at the end to make sure the girls made the show on time.

The gents then strolled through the Passage Jouffroy and Verdeau to kill some time. The game started an hour after the ballet started, and we only had a 15 minute train ride to get there. The metro was empty when we climbed on, but picked up more and more football fans as we left the city center. We arrived at the station in a packed car, and the walk to the stadium was lined with street food vendors and souvenir stands. Even though we arrived very early, the crowd was lively. We entered the stadium and headed for our seats. We watched the pre-match festivities, trying to guess what the heck was going on. Another oddity was the smoking in the stands. I’m not sure if it was allowed, but there were many smokers in the stadium.

The team took the field and Cade had the time of his life. He yelled, cheered and moaned with the crowd as we rooted for the home team and got swept up in the pride the rest of the world outside of the States takes in it’s home football team.

The girls enjoyed the ballet and Macy visited the orchestra pit to grab some pictures. It was much different from the past ballets they had attended. The number of males in Romeo and Juliet is much more than The Nutcracker, and they got to see much more acting through dance. The Opera Bastille was newer with a more modern feel. There were no performances at the Opera Garnier, the more historic opera house. It was three hours with two intermissions, but the time passed by very quickly by keeping everyone entertained.