what happens in paris...

Wow. So the last few days in paris have been remarkable. Absolutely breathtaking to be honest. Traveling alone was not at all as stressful as my parents had built it up to be. My bags had been packed nearly a week in advance. Every day I would sift through the same clothing selections and make sure I hadn't missed a thing. Each time I secured the zipper, I jumped on the scale to make sure the weight did not magically increase exponentially. My worst fear. But if anything, the military brat in me has learned how to pack appropriately. (In case anyone was curious I was 10lbs underweight which made my day).

Checking into the airport was stressful with my family. They were just worried about me I assume. Fumbling with papers and pens to put my information on my luggage, and check my bag into the secured TSA. Granted, as much as I claim to be competent on my own, moments after walking through to the security check point I forgot to remove my computer from my carry on before I put it through the scanner. I know I had done something wrong the moment TSA got sassy with me and treated my bag like it was contaminated. Ten minutes later and several glares from officials I was well on my way to my terminal.

My flight to Atlanta was uneventful. The plane took off, and landed as usual. But I have never meet more rude people trying to leave a plane. Even after expressing my urgency to reach a connecting flight I was met with people trying to throw everything on the line to cut in front of me by a matter of inches. But whatever. When I got around to making my way to the F1 gate I gave my mother a phone call.

It was nice to hear my mother, and she wished me well as this would be the last phone call for a while. She started to cry a bit and thats when it really hit me. I was going to be in a completely different country for the next month. What did I do then? The same thing any other person in my situation would do. Grabbed a croissant and waiting for boarding. Seat 26E was my new home for the next 8 hours. It was better than the first flight where I was surrounded by a 9 month old and 4 year old. There was less screaming for sure, but there was a sick old man sitting to my right and I knew my immune system could only hold so much. I just felt my stomach turn in knots as each hour passed.

The nice thing about the airplane was that it was completely staffed by french speaking flight attendants. The successful chit chat and conversation about what drink to choose and which meal option was better was a real confidence boost. But my clumsy disposition and the highly unfortunate timing of my hand bumping the drink cart and pinching the attendant's hand caused a rift between several staff members and myself. To which I put on my eye mask and slept until the flight was over.

Bright eyed and ready for breakfast the most un appealing assortment of mixed fruit, and prepackaged muffins, and foil covered water graced my presence. I was already nauseous, and in an attempt to be polite opened everything to try to eat... only to have opened everything and not eat a single bite. That would be my second strike with the employees on the airplane.

The plane landed and getting through customs was a breeze. Waiting for my luggage was time I spent literally watching the second hand on my watch tick away. But then came the not so fun part. My arrival was in terminal 2E... when I needed to meet in terminal 2A.

As you can see from this map... this is a very long way to cary luggage. Up stairs. And I had less than half an hour to get there. Not going to lie, I broke a sweat just getting the suit case off the conveyor belt. So I was struggling hard. And each time I saw an arrow for terminal 2A my heart would jump a beat in excitement only to realize it was the farthest destination.

Running into Blake, Daniel, and Julie in the terminal brought the anxiety down and seeing them made me feel pretty comfortable. As they all had to suffer that same walk I did, we comforted each other with stories of each others misery. Briana was the last to arrive and we all managed to find our professor. Her unique choice of fashion and contagious laugh made it easy to pick her out of a crowd.

The last thing we wanted to hear from her though, was that we were not taking a taxi to the hotel...

Hello world! Tomorrow marks the start of one of most thrilling summers yet. The next four weeks I will be studying for my French major in sunny southern France!  Stay posted for what will be an adventure for all... :)

-xoxo meg