Paris

When I boarded the red-eye from Philly to London Heathrow airport, I was pleasantly surprised to see an attractive woman in the seat next to me. Mind you, I’m the type of guy that gets in my seat and doesn’t like to bother or bug anyone, in fact, just give me my headphones, a good book or computer and I’m good for the duration. The person that yacks on and on next to you… well, enough said.

As things settled in preparation, I watched casually as the woman next to me also prepared for the long haul. Finally, she pulled out her book for the flight. I uttered a startled laugh, and sheepishly said, ‘hmm. must be a good book’ as I pulled out my copy of the same book.

For the next three hours we chatted and laughed about anything you can imagine, including how the book in mention was just another sappy, hopeless romantic one. Our conversation was a natural, ‘drinking in the delight’ moment of meeting a traveling companion who shared the same wit and passions about the world as the other did. I thought to myself, this woman is young and wise beyond her age. She was a Harvard college student studying law at Cambridge for the summer. But, she explained, don’t let the big names fool you, she was just an average student with a lucky break to study in the UK for the summer. I rolled my eyes, but she was unphased. Hence my first comprehension of the next generation of politicians soon to be in power. I was inspired. And attracted.

Half way through the flight we both grew tired, full from conversation, dinner and drink. I remember slipping into a mild slumber, and feeling her hand slip between the seat armrest down onto my side of the seat to touch my arm. I didn’t move. It was electric.

We both woke up face to face with the blare of cabin lights and the flight attendant barking we had 30 mins to get ready. At ten minutes to landing, my mind recovered and was perusing through alternatives. Do you ask for her number or email? I was going on to Paris, so it was unlikely that we would be able to catch up. At least we had a great night together, introduced by a ridiculous Robert Redford book.

“I’m going on to Paris, are you staying in London for the summer?” What a schmuck I sounded like, knowing full well the answer. “Yes” she said, “how long are you in Paris? I’ve never been to Paris before.”

Ok I’m an opportunist, and to have a chance at an official date with a gorgeous and intelligent woman, well count me in. “I’m in Paris for 2 weeks on assignment, so if you want, it would be great to see you. We could see some sites together.” I said, trying to sound nonchalant and Parisian. “I’ll give you my phone number where I’m staying and if you decide to visit then please call me.” She took my number. We de-boarded and went our separate ways. Little did I know that a gaggle of her other classmates were sitting all around us watching. I should have felt the heat but I was blind.

That week in Paris was incredibly busy, but still, did I miss her call? I didn’t have her phone number, so if I missed it, bad luck. Then it came, the short, distant voice mail from London, indicating the time and date she would be arriving Paris via the Eurostar.

I watched the train come to a stop, but which car was she in? There were 20 cars in all and the Gare du Nord was a big station. Then, there she was. And all ten of her girlfriends.

She ran up to me with a huge smile, we hugged and kissed like old lovers. Her small team of specialists horded around us to further investigate. “After telling my friends about you, they all wanted to come to Paris too!” She said. But then she leaned close to me and whispered in my ear, “Thank you for being the inspiration for getting all of us out of that stuffy British school. We couldn’t stand it even for a week, and besides, they wanted to check you out to see if you’re safe and ok.” I passed the gaggle test.

Suffice to say, we had an incredible day, seeing all the main sites to see in Paris, the Effiel Tower, all the museums, and such. Finally, about 10pm, we arrived at the Avenue des Champs-Élysées, one of the most famous streets in Paris. We were standing in front of the Arc de Triomphe, the focal point of the Avenue, and she whispered to me, “I’ve always had this dream of passionately kissing someone right here.” So we did. For about five minutes until someone lit a fire cracker at our feet and scared the crap out of both of us.

It just so happened that same day, France had won the FIFA Soccer World Cup. France went Ballistic. People hanging out of balconies, cars and trains, waving the French flag, living as only Parisians do. It was an incredible moment in history. And the kiss wasn’t bad either. Besides, it was July Fourth.

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