Europtrip, Part 4: Hail the Conquering Hero

9:00pm Monday, May 30th. Munich, Germany. I board my train, where I am THRILLED to see I have my own car! How awesome is that? After all the bad luck we had on the train earlier, and the inability to reserve a sleeper car after arriving in Munich, I end up with my own car! I'm pumped. Plus it's a lot cooler today, so I'm not sweating bullets this time (I came prepared with water; fool me twice, thou shalt not!). I give my ticket to the very angry Nazi looking ticket guy who speaks no English, open up my bag and spread out some clothes that I had to pack while a bit damp, and then kick back, read for a while, and then lie back and try to get some sleep. I'm ready for a nice, relaxing trip to Paris.

2:00am Tuesday, May 31st. I've been dozing off and on; the seats are maybe five feet long, so I'm having trouble sleeping. Not that I'm complaining; it's still great. We just pulled into some train station and stopped; I continue to try to sleep.

2:10am: HOLY SHIT. The Ticket Nazi just threw open my door and started screaming at me! I'm lying there, half asleep, all the lights off and the shades drawn, when he throws open the door and does this. Plus, as I said earlier, he speaks NO English. All I know is there is a short heavyset buzz cut ticket taker screaming German at me while I'm still groggy.

Not a good situation for either of us.

I have no clue what this guy wants. I pull out my ticket and hand it to him, and it becomes obvious that no, that's not what he is looking for. Suddenly it dawns on me: he wants me to change trains, and he wants me to change trains NOW.

Now I have a dilemma here. One of the most important lessons Bob taught me was to beware the train station. That was the biggest place that people try to take advantage of you, especially in Italy. So I'm dubious, for several reasons. First, there is nothing on my ticket that indicates I need to change trains (I double check this as he screams at me), nor did anyone at the trainstation--when purchasing the ticket or checking in--give me any instruction to be prepared to change trains. Now here I am, it's 2:00am, I have no clue what city I'm in, there's no one around in the train or outside, and this is basically the second German I've met who can't speak English, even though he works on the fricking TRAIN, where it would make the most sense to have someone who speaks English.

In other words, I'm sensing a trap.

I decide to trust him, for basically two reasons: 1) I still have a full day to get to my plane, so if I do get stuck here overnight, it shouldn't be THAT big of a deal. 2) If he does try anything, I have no doubt I can beat him in a fight, and I can even get to one of my couple of knives (I'm a Pondrom, you know we don't like to go places unarmed) as I get off the train.

So I frantically pack as this guy is screaming at me to hurry, we run to the end of the car with me carrying my bag (zipping my bag is not easy, so I'm just carrying my 80 pound bag like you would a baby), he kicks the door open and hops out as the train starts to move. I jump off the train as it starts pulling away, thinking, "I am going to fucking kill you if you are trying to pull some shit on me."

He wasn't. We ran a couple minutes up the track, where there is another train waiting, that has the correct name on it and appears to be going to Paris. This guy literally saved my ass. God only knows where I would have ended up, and when. So Angry German Train Guy, who I thanked profusely when I was aboard my train, I thank you again sir! You are truly a gem amongst human beings, and a fantastic ticket taker guy dude!

I board the new train (again, get my own suite), zip up my bag properly, and attempt to get some sleep.

7:00am, Paris. I arrive safe and sound, back in gay Paris. Now, tonight I will be staying with my good friend Tracie, the same one we had dinner with the night we got locked out of our hotel. However, she has been in New York all weekend, and won't be back until 11:00am. So I need a tourist attraction that will be open at 7:00am, preferably one that I haven't been to.

It's off to Notre Dame.

I take the Metro to Notre Dame, and that Metro stop is actually behind the Paris Police Station (I forget its name, and am too lazy to look it up), which is across the street from the cathedral. I go inside the church, look around, and say a rosary. As I'm finishing up the rosary, a Mass begins, so I get to take in a Mass at Notre Dame. I think this makes up for me missing Mass on Sunday...right God? Please? Sorry about that.

Notre Dame is beautiful, but very dark. I mean, not that there are many really well lit churches, but this one is REALLY dark. I view the church, and then go outside to read in the courtyard, as it is a beautiful day outside.

10:30am. I'm starving, and am in DESPERATE need for a shower, so I get up and head for the Metro, so I can go meet up with Tracie and get the keys to her place. Now, as I'm crossing the street to head to the Metro entrance behind the police station, I notice that there are riot cops surrounding the police station. They don't have their helmets on, and they're just standing in groups talking casually, but they're still there, and that's never a good thing.

I get to the Metro entrance and it's shut down. They've sealed it off. I've never seen or heard of such a thing. Granted, I've never seen or heard of much of anything for the Metro, but I think it's a safe bet to say that when an entrance gets shut down, that's not a good thing. So I go talk to two cops--both in riot gear, and one of them who was a good inch taller than me, this was the biggest mother fucking Frenchman I'd ever seen, I didn't know they could grow that big--and try to figure out where I should go. Though they don't speak any English, they quickly point me to simply ago across the river, to St. Michael.

Unfortunately, to cross the river, I have to walk back around to the front of the building.

Literally as I'm walking away from my two Popo friends, the word comes out to them to gear up. They put on all their crap, and start to circle the building. There is definitely a sense of anticipation in the air.

Now I'm torn at this point. I know what the riot is for: yesterday the French had voted not to accept the European Union constitution. So it's not something that I'm thinking they would get too violent over. Plus, being a student of history, I know that the French riot about as often as the Italians strike, which is whenever they're bored and want a day off. So I'm kind of curious...I'm thinking about hanging around and watching the riot.

Three things stop me: 1) I'm alone, 2) It's literally time for me to be meeting Tracie, and 3) except for that big cop, I'm head and shoulders above everybody out there. Which means if anyone gets killed, everyone will remember the tall American in the blue sweatshirt and black skullcap. Or if the cops start shooting tear gas, the easiest target to aim at will be me. So my good sense gets the better of me, and I depart. I grab the best orange I've ever had in my life from a shop, and head to see Tracie, literally as the first idiots begin screaming and charging the line of police.

11:30am. I arrive at Tracie's office without too many problems, get her key, and head to her place, again without too many problems. Now, Tracie has a roommate, though she has assured me that she is at work and I don't need to be concerned about frightening her.

I get to Tracie's apartment, and start messing with the lock. Now I was treating it like an American lock: turning the key until it clicked and I felt the bolt move, releasing the lock, and turning the knob and pushing the door in. The doorknob was in the middle of the door, much like a Hobbit's hole would be, but other than that it seems fairly straightforward.

Door won't open.

I start playing with the door, trying to get it open. It's obviously the right key; I'm just doing something wrong, and I can't figure out what. Right about the time I'm starting to become concerned that someone might come along, see me, and think I'm trying to break into my friend's apartment, I just barely hear a tiny voice saying "Monsieur?" coming from the other side of the door.

Holy shit. Claire is home.

I'm now picturing what this looks like for her: possible the largest man she's ever seen in her life, wearing a baggy sweatshirt and a skullcap, is fumbling with her door while cursing and muttering at it in American English. I'm also remembering that Tracie told me she hadn't actually TOLD Claire that I was coming, but she did shoot her an email that morning.

"God I hope she checked her email," I think.

She had, so she was (somewhat) expecting me. I explained who I was, and she let me in, as I was figuring out that it was one of those locks that you pushed on, kept pushing on the lock to keep it open, and then just push the door in. My bad. I walk in and see Claire, and feel even worse. She is incredibly beautiful French girl who is about 5'5" and petite. Let me put it this way: later in the evening, Tracie said that Claire was wondering if she should go get the baseball bat right before I heard her calling me through the door. I looked at her as Tracie told me this and thought, "Okay. Go get the bat. Hell, I'll give you two free swings. As long as you don't hit me in the head of the nuts, I'm 99% sure I'll be fine. If it's a wooden bat, I'll even let you get a head shot in."

It's at this point I'd like to thank God for making me a man and huge, so I don't have to physically worry about things like that very often in my life.

Anyway Claire, I'm so very sorry that I scared you. I do hope you'll forgive me, and I hope you do come to Dallas some day so I can make it up to you. We chatted for a few minutes, but Claire had a huge test the next day that she needed to study for, so she retired to her room. I dropped off my gear, and then went out to repurchase my pictures.

Yes. I'd left my pictures on the God dam train. No, not the time when I leapt off the moving train. I made sure I grabbed them then. It was as I was leaving the last train! Just left them sitting up there! I carried those pics from Paris to Germany, went on a quest for a cardboard tube, carried the cardboard tube from Germany to Paris, and then left it on the God dam train! I'm an idiot. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Since those were my presents to, well, almost everyone, I went and got a lot more. I also stopped and found a florist and bought Claire and Tracie some flowers for putting me up for the night. I came back, took a much needed shower, and then passed out on their oh so comfortable couch.

6:00pm. I wake up with a phone call from Tracie, telling me that she has to work late and won't be able to come home for dinner. I feel very bad for her, as she's had a long day. Claire is making chicken and potatoes, and graciously offers dinner to me. It's delicious, and we have a very pleasant meal together.

I decide I need to do some sightseeing this evening, and so I get dressed and head out to see the town. Now the sun sets REALLY late in Europe, so I don't leave until about 9:00pm. I really want to see the Arc and the Eiffel tower lit up at night. So I take the Metro to the MusÃe de l'Homme, which is the cool museum directly across the Eiffel Tower. The view of the tower is fantastic from there. I arrive at 10:55pm, and while it is dark over the tower, there is still a tiny bit of light behind us to the East. It doesn't matter though, as the tower is lit up in yellow light, and truly does look beautiful. Now as I'm sitting there watching the tower, I overhear another American say that something will happen at 11:00pm.

11:00pm. Remember what I said earlier? How disappointed I was in the Tower? I stand by that statement...during the day. At the top of every hour at night until 12 or 1, they tower sparkles for 5 minutes with white light. It is AMAZING. It's literally one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen in my life, and it was incredibly romantic. I really wished a certain someone was there, right then. People, I'm telling you, you don't even need to go see the Tower during the day. But if you don't see it at night, you're a fool. No matter who you are, what your tastes are, what your preferences are; I don't know if I've seen anything as fantastic as the Eiffel Tower lit up at night. It was an incredibly moving experience.

I went and saw the Arc next, and while it also looked beautiful at night, it was nowhere near as impressive as the Tower. I really wished I'd been able to go to the top, but of course it was closed. In other words, the Arc rules the day, and the Tower rules the night.

I went back, got to chat with Tracie a few minutes, and then she went to bed, and I watched Trading Places (the hilarious Dan Akroyd/Eddie Murphy movie) and fell asleep. Tomorrow, I return home.

8:00am, Wednesday, June 1st. Up and at em! I get up, put some clothes on, get one last tartelette fraise, and take the bus to the airport. I arrive relatively painlessly about 10:00am for my noon flight. Plenty of time, right? Wrong! The lines at the airport are unbelievably long, and the customs guys are unbelievably slow for having doing absolutely nothing. I mean seriously. This guy asked me a couple of questions about where I stayed and what I did. He asked me if I had receipts. I said no. He sent me along. The only person out of the 20 people in front of me whose luggage he opened was the smoking hot blonde's, who he took an extraordinary amount of time with. I'm sure it was just a coincidence that it happened to her, and I have sympathy for Lindsey, Kelly, Nancy, Alyssa, Brande, Emily, Halley, Jamie, Jami, JDub, Tracie, and any other smoking hot blonde friends of mine who has to put up with that shit.

Oh, and you too, Barry. ;-)

Anyway, so I finally clear customs, and get to the automatic ticket printer machine at exactly 11:16am. Unfortunately, in France, 45 minutes before the flight leaves they stop issuing boarding passes. Now, I'm not saying that I was homicidal at this point, but I will say that it's a good thing a nice ticket lady came over and checked me in manually, because the 5'6" maybe 120lb blonde army girl wasn't going to stop me from boarding that plane, Stayer Aug or no Stayer Aug.

So now I clear the metal detectors, haul ass to my gate, and get in line. Now I want you to picture a room. Then picture the hallway that leads to the ramp that boards the plane. Okay? Good. Now picture this: When deboarding the plane, you don't deboard into the room. There's a glass wall that runs around the perimeter of the room, and you walk literally around the room to get off the plane. But in doing so, you walk past all the other ramps where people are boarding the plane.

This is the stupidest set up in the history of airports.

I mean really. Who's bright idea is this? Now of course, the airports don't want boarding and deboarding passengers mingling, in case someone tries to sneak on or slip someone something. So every time a plane was deboarding and people were walking out, they made us wait to deboard. Nevermind that we're now half an hour late to board, and that these people have arrived at their destination and are not late. No, we are the ones who get to wait to be made even later! This is good thinking people!

We finally get on the airplane, and end up taking off about 12:40pm, when we were supposed to take off at 12:00pm. Yes, I do have connecting flights in New York that I am now concerned about. Oh well, we'll just see.

12:45pm. Now, on the way back, I'm on a 767, not a 777. There is a LOT less leg room, and I'm in the 2 seat aisle with someone sitting next to me. In other words, I'm shoved in like a fucking sardine. For I think an 8.5 hour flight. Let's pull out my favorite, the bullet point list for thoughts on the trip back.

* I popped on my headphones, and the first song I heard was Gavin Degraw, Chariot. I almost started crying. Seriously. I missed American music that much. I was singing along with the music like crazy; it was GREAT! You want to talk about elation, that was elation.

* I saw National Treasure on the plane. Not bad. It's no The Rock, Gone in 60 Seconds, or Con Air, but it was pretty good.

* Airline food: not bad! Not bad at all! I was VERY pleasantly surprised by how good the meals were. And nice and hot, too! Thanks LSG Sky Chefs!

* I'm 95% sure I saw a couple join the mile high club. They were sitting across the aisle from me and back one. At one point, she did the "crawl over him in a sexy way to get into the aisle" bit to him. Seriously, how do you do that? I mean, I know I'm bigger than almost everyone else. But I can barely turn around in that bathroom. I don't care if you're Nirupa sized, I just don't see how you can comfortably or quietly have sex in there. Anybody who has done this want to explain it to us? I guess the exhibitionist aspect is such an aphrodisiac that it surpasses the physical discomforts. And no, I didn't use the bathroom after I suspected that they did that.

* Mmmmmm...orange juice. Not Fanta; real orange juice.

2:30pm, New York, New York. Since we were traveling back through time zones, I arrive at New York for the first time in my life after what timewise looks to be just a two hour flight. Now, I have to clear customs, pick up my bag, do something with my bag, and then reboard a plane to Dallas by 3:30pm. What the fuck, I like a challenge.

So I've cleared customs, and am standing in the regular security checkpoint with my day back and my huge bag, and I'm assuming that they'll just take my bag and toss it on the plane when I get up there. Of course the line is ridiculously long. Then, all of the sudden, I remember something rather important: I have knives in my bag.

Shit.

Yeah, I don't think the security personnell are going to be too keen on that. I go back downstairs, talk to a lady at one of the check in desks, and ask her what to do with my bag. Of course, by now it's 3:15. She points me where to go, and in no uncertain terms tells me to haul ass. I run over, drop off my bag at some checkpoint while wondering why I was given my bag in the first place, and then haul ass back to the ridiculously long line. Fortunately for me, the line has disappeared, and I run right through the check in.

A side note here: this is my first time in New York, and I must say, the accents in New York amused me more than anyone's in Europe. They're awesome. The most ridiculous accent you hear on TV is the New York accents I was hearing in the airport. It was awesome! I seriously felt like I was still in Europe, trying to pick up on another language.

Well, fortunately for me, my plane was 15 minutes late, so there was no danger in me missing it. The plane from New York to Dallas was the biggest piece of shit I've ever seen in my life: it was at least 20 years old and I wouldn't be at all surprised if it was 30 years old, none of the headphones worked, so even though they showed Ocean's 12, I couldn't hear any of it, and the looks the stewardesses were giving us seriously scared me. One good thing happened, though: I got an emergency aisle seat. This is good for two reasons: 1) I had a ton of leg room, thank God, and 2) I was sure that I was going to need to use the emergency exit on this POS plane.

The flight home was fairly uneventful. I arrived at DFW airport, and got my baggage along with the Dallas Maverick's Marquis Daniels, who you've often heard me describe on this blog as the scariest looking Maverick. Well, after seeing him up close in person, I'm right because of his crazy eyes, tats, and nutty hair, but not because of his size. I was taller and stronger than he was, which was very surreal for me, and I don't know why. Anyway, I got my bags, and met Nirupa outside, who took me home sweet home.

It was a great trip. I highly recommend going for anyone, and if you're under the age of 30, I recommend the backpack and hostel route, even if you're married. Most of the hotels we saw were crap unless they were at least 4 star, and those are pretty damn expensive. The camaraderie and the people you meet are so cool, it easily makes it worth the inconvenience of not having your own room.

I lost 8 pounds in my two weeks over there, and I didn't have much weight to lose in the first place. Between all the walking, lugging the bag, eating food that is better for you, and not eating as much as you do in America, it's aguaranteedd way to drop some pounds and get leaner if you want to do that. I didn't come back with any weird illnesses or anything like that, and I never got really sunburned, even though I never wore sunscreen and I burn fairly easily.

Well guys, I hope you enjoyed the tale of my trip. I'm sorry it's taken so long to get it all out here, but I have definitely enjoyed the telling of it. My only regret is that none of you out there were over there with us, hanging out, having a good time. I'm going to Southern Europe (Italy and Spain mainly) in two years, so if you want to go with me, start planning/saving now!!!!!