Dans Paris...

It was impossible to sleep on the plane. I was stuck in the middle (a situation that happened while I was distracted by my oversized carry-on not being able to fit in the overhead compartment), upright with air blasting up my nostrils. At one point, I couldn't breathe good! I'm exhausted and surely dehydrated BUT the plane did land so all thanks to the Big Guy. The chicken and rice was scrumptuous (sp) and the little coffee I had wasn't half bad. The french men working in Charles De Gualle Airport are quite handsome and my temporary Lolita look seems to be "pulling them in" (as my family would say) quite nicely. YET that's neither here nor there. A french man is the LAST thing I need in my life. The question remains, then, what do I need in my life? Well, for starters, I would really like to brush my teeth and rinse with flouride. I wouldn't mind a giant cup of coffee (blacker is always better), my cheap nasal spray (which surprisingly works miracles up my nose) and...ummm...a big buly man to carry all my bags through this airport then in Geneva and then carry me to my final destination. Is that too much for a girl to ask? Geeze Louise!