Waiting in line patiently at the new terminal at CDG. The counter agent is tired, I'm the last person before she leaves for the day. Her friend has already gotten off and has 
come by to wait for her as she finishes with me. I have three suitcases and you're only allowed two. Oh no! I think. She'll be crabby and in a hurry. There goes 150 euros in excess baggage fees, plus waiting in line at the Air France office to pay the fee, then waiting in line again to hand over and ticket the baggage....
"An American world championship football team is here," the other agent says chattily to her friend, who is checking my passport and seat assignment. "American football, you know, not real football! And they call it a World Championship! But the men are so handsome-- real armoires à glace*, huge, and so goodlooking!"
"Are they on my plane?" I said, interested.
"Where are you going, Madame? ...No, they are not on your plane. C'est dommage! Anyway, they are all younger than I am [implying,"too young for you, as well"!]."
"One can always admire!" I said.
The ticket agents both laughed. Mine took my last suitcase, deftly fit the label around the handle, and sent it onto the conveyor belt. "Here is your boarding pass, Madame. Have a good flight!"
No extra luggage fee, and when I got on the plane, I discovered we were in prime seats.
*Mirrored wardrobes-- this is slang for a really huge guy with wide shoulders
Actually, in this case, armoire a glace= ice box. They're as big as a refrigerator!!
Hope you enjoyed your flight.
From Sedulia: Oh no, Veronique, then I should have found another picture! "Icebox" is what I thought it meant, then when I looked it up on Google, I kept finding photos of wardrobes.
Posted by: Veronique | 01 February 2007 at 22:40
The entrance to the Irish Embassey is to be found on Rue Rude,is this a coincidence I ask you?
Life in France as an ex-pat, interesting but I don't feel like an ex-pat at all in either sense. As I am both still Irish and hence still a Pat or Paddy and very much at home here in Brittany.
Let's face it life in France has its ups and downs but it's sweet.
Can you beat a fresh baguette and croissant? The English spend there evenings looking at cooking programmes on the BBC ( which does not seem to do them any good what so ever) or programmes about re-locating to Australia, or Croatia, Spain and even the demon France where those arrogent, detestable, snail eating Frogs live. The love /hate relationship is so funny as it is very one sided, in reality the French don't even think about the Brits except to look at Benny Hill or Mr. Beans holidays.
Posted by: Eric Duhan | 18 April 2007 at 17:03
Dear Eric, It's not a coincidence, is Eireannach mé (ina theannta sin Meiriceánach).
It always makes me laugh to see how the Brits go on and on about the French, both pro and con, while the French live their lives happily ignoring the other side of the Manche!
I do love England too. But I no longer aspire to understand the British.
Posted by: Sedulia | 20 April 2007 at 01:06
Like the French renouncing ever to
understand cricket.
Slàn
Eric
Posted by: Eric Duhan | 25 April 2007 at 16:55