Passepartout - around the world in 23 hours... i think he's got time to spare
Mr. Pierre Walker - 2 good legs and 1 mission
and as a bonus the entire cast from what international sport do you play
Ok so we start in Paris at around 10am. I arrive and coach drops me off. Knowing I don't have a boarding pass, I go through the line to the border patrol thinking that maybe it's on the other side. Oh no. I get directed back to the desk at the far right were a little French woman is sitting. Not speaking english she points to a machine when I ask if I can check in. Great! Who needs real service when you've got a computer to do your job! Let's just get rid of all the jobs and make it "EASIER" by using computers.... hahahaha.... (but I'm not bitter)
Well it says all you need to do is scan your passport and your good to go... enter computer failure. I scan my passport and the next thing I see is an insufficient data screen. Awesome! I try to do it again, no luck. Ok side option, check for the electronic ticket number or something else I dont have. Great. Didn't print out the paper, so I make the decision to use the phone...
eventhough I'm probably over my data plan because AT&T says when you
take pictures with the Iphone and download to your computer using a cord.
It's IDK an extra dollar a pic. and you've seen how many pics I've
taken...sorry mom.
After making that gut call, it's good to know that reliable service is at your finger tips.... or not. I see the little clock spin countless times and just wait... good thing every 3 mins the computer I'm trying to board at wants to know if I've walked away or am still waiting. I have to press a button like 15 times while looking for service. I'm getting a little nervous thinking what will I do if I get stuck. I don't have a phone or coach's number... crap. "Lord help me" (good idea)... Of course afterwards I get service, thankfully have saved it under starred emails. And get the eticket number. Walk through the line again and thankfully I get the same lady who smiles and lets me pass.
I get to my gate and wait in the baggage check line, check my baggage and proceed to the gate number. The lady tells me it's gate 29. vingt-neuf. I try to find it, but it's rather difficult to find. I walk back and forth and then notice that each sign doesn't include the 29 gate... you've got 12-28 on one side and 30-4o something on the other... SWEET. Finally I find it and wait with the other people to go through security check.
People are so fun to watch. It's one of my favorite things to do. I really love people and seeing how different we all are. In the line there's a young Irish guitar player, a Japanesse man in a rush and a bit confused, an English girl who keeps looking at me like she know's something I don't, an Arabic family, an old man in a kilt who becomes a little upset when security wants to check under his kilt ( I dont know why he'd be upset though?!?.... thankfully he's yelling at them in english and I can understand his enormous sense of frustration), I mean really the bases are pretty much covered here.
Then introducing Phillip Anyou. This is the guy who basically molests me. I totally relate to the old man now. I mean I'm wearing just a T-shirt and jeans, that's it.... there is nothing in my pockets, no hat, no shoes.... ok I do have socks on.... no belt, nothing. (I learned this lesson working with Delta, if you throw all your stuff in a bag before you walk through there's no way this type of "Philling up An-you" ever happens) I understand the normal pat down, or wave the wand over you, but this guy was one more grab away from me being locked up in a French prison. He seriously had a problem.
So after I get through a nice lady asks me if I'm sure I want to wait because there is nothing in the terminal except the seats right next to her.... You think I'm going back there with the French fondler... I dont think so.
As I'm waiting for the plane to arrive, I listen to my Ipod and try relax before the flight. Finally hearing a couple of English voices around is a good change of pace from the everyday French. I then see the main guy from British Airways coming through and asking people where there going. So... next thing you know I have to go to gate 28, totally different from gate 29. Instead of making a big security line and letting people walk to the right gates, the terminal I was in decides to have individual security for every 2-3 gates. You know what this means- say hello to Phillip again. After being molested we hop on the quick flight to London.
London's airport is intense. I mean after you go through the maze to get to where you are going, its really nice. There's all kinds of nice duty free shops and restaurants to really keep you entertained. I decide to grab a bite to eat, in case I don't get feed for a while on the plane. Not a huge story here, but I got a mexican sandwhich in London. I thought that was ironic, until I tasted it and realized it was crap. It was on some super fiber, whole grain, whole wheat, make a whole foods super shopper throw-up, kind of bread. And I have no clue how much I paid for it because the Euro isn't accepted in the UK.
I eat the sandwhich and head to the gate. They haven't started boarding so I go to the restroom. 
Introduce the REAL wanker. I can understand now why they call men from the UK wankers. As I go to the urinal to relieve myself, I naturally take the stall away from as most people as possible. Unfortunately it's the holidays so I have one free spot on my left, myself, and then said wanker to my right. Minding my own business I was rudely interrupted by the wanker wanking... too much information I know... I move to the left, finish and get out of there as fast as a Jamacian running the 100yard dash.
London's airport is a little bit different then most I've seen. After you check through the gates you then walk down the escalators and rows of stairs to ground floor, then hop on a bus that drives you out to the airplane, manuevering all over the ramp (ramp is the word for the floor that the planes drive/ park on, etc.) So being that we have the holidays, every one is trying to get back to the US for a Merry Christmas. The Green family was one such group.
As we load onto the bus I am followed by the Green's. You see I made a V-line to the back of the bus in a place I could stand. They followed and sat in the 3 seats that I had left. Basically this is how this ancedote goes. The man starts histarically gripping at his wife, whose daughter around 14 is sitting next to her. Being a woman she says I don't want to talk about this here and I've had enough. Logically thought process I think, but papa's pissed. I mean let's describe this guy. He looks like late 40's early 50's, you can tell he's a business man who values his time and makes a lot of money. By the way his dressed I'm drawing conclusions of snobishness. He's already pretty much grey, but it's the kind of grey on a guy's head when it shouldn't be grey; making me think he's up tight.
So Mr. "Green" decides to really show off the environmental side and air out that dirty laundry. Apparently he asked his wife to get the tickets, and she had an 8 hour lay over in London. We are getting on the plane to Houston now so why is it a big deal. I guess the past 8 hours really wound him up. He's "like dynamite. Where gonna explode, then were gonna get higher. Then we'll catch on fire." (a replaying series on NASN about the worst coaches...this was a pregame speech to one of the NFL teams)
So the daughter is totally respectable in this situation. She plays peacekeeper and tries to calm the situation out. I think it's crazy. At one point the man grabs his passport and slings it at the wife. You can tell she's sorry, but Mr. Green doesn't much stand for sorrys, atleast from what I gather. I feel sorry for the wife, proud for the daughter, sad for what matters most to the man, and thankful that I can use this story to guide me in my own family one day...
I start thinking about people. I just start thinking how different we all are and yet how much God loves us all. It opened my eyes, as if I was the one looking from above. I could see how this would effect the little girl down the road. How strong she'll be because of it.
Ok back to the ancedote's.... I'll try and wrap it up bc I know I'm taking a while....
So I hop onto the plane, with the help of my new favorite "happy" flight attendant. I mean this guy is just a bundle of joy (insert wrist flick) All in all though the guy did a pretty dam good job serving all of us on the plane, but I still can't get over looking back for a whinning girls voice and hearing him. His name was Nicolas, and there is nothing funnier then when we started going through a little turbulence hearing him scream at some little kid for getting up into the aisle. I about died laughing.
On the flight I had the privelage to sit in the middle seat next to 2 guys around the same age as myself. One was Passeport, he had one of the longest days I had ever heard. He had woken up in New Delhi at 2am and flew to London, had a 4 hour layover, and was on this flight.... Basically the guy was in a plane for 18 hours, overall 23 in an airport, and still had 5 hours once we landed to finish out Dec. 22nd. It played out great bc the guy slept like a rock the whole ride to Houston, except for the first 20 mins were he told me he was from the woodlands, studying, and going home to see the fam. He was definitely a talker so my right ear was pretty glad he fell asleep. To the right was a non talker who listened to music the whole ride there. It only sucked bc he was just as broad shouldered as myself...so when we sat it was normally a pushing match on whose shoulders would be sucked in like a man frozen in the antarctic. I gave in for a while streeching my arms to the sky.
It seems like it would be the worst, scrunched next to 2 guys on a plane with my knees being crammed from 1/2 the part of the love fest going on in 2 of the seats in front of me, and not to mention the old man playing patty cake with the touch screen tv on the seat behind me. But all in all it was a pretty good trip. I mean seeing Greenland is pretty surreal. It's like look through the white clouds to see the white ice capped land. It was beautiful.
Also on the flight was this random creepo named Pierre walker. Pierre went to the bathroom every 28 minutes. I say 28 bc it was pretty spot on. I had no clue what he was doing, but it was a little freaky. I wrote him off with a bad case of bowel movement problems and left it at that. But after he was finished he strolled through the aisles for a good 15 mins before starting the cycle over again. Quite odd, which made it humorous to me.
Oh and finally let's not forget the endless streams of international athletes returning home for Christmas. On our plane we had 2 guys from a basketball team. A girl who looked like a basketball player, and a legit volleyball player. Also in London there was the Italian handball team, and various random basketball players flying to Miami. It's comforting being able to relate to them with just a look.
I finally arrived and made it through the line at customs, waited on my bag, and all in all only took from leaving my apartment in Pontoise at 9:45am to arriving in Houston at 7:30pm... add the 7 hour time difference and you've got a long day. But I'm thrilled to be home. Hope you all have a
MERRY CHRISTMAS and I'll write in after the holidays about some other things that have happened in France that I've yet to talk about.
Introduce the REAL wanker. I can understand now why they call men from the UK wankers. As I go to the urinal to relieve myself, I naturally take the stall away from as most people as possible. Unfortunately it's the holidays so I have one free spot on my left, myself, and then said wanker to my right. Minding my own business I was rudely interrupted by the wanker wanking... too much information I know... I move to the left, finish and get out of there as fast as a Jamacian running the 100yard dash.
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