paris diaries, vol. iv

Travel and commute are things I have become all too familiar with over the past couple months. I mean, I am literally drafting and publishing this from an airport. You may be wondering–Molly, this is called the Paris Diaries. Why are you not in Paris? Well, as I am posting this after everything goes down, I guess I can let the cat out of the bag. I just flew home to surprise my family for my brother’s wedding!!!

Wednesday afternoon, while I was still in Paris, I went to the Eiffel Tower and laid down in the grass and looked up at the tall mass of steel. I then caught the metro to get coffee with my friends. When we got back to my dorm, I laid down for my final nap before departure. Waking up five minutes before meal time, I went downstairs and ate a not-so filling dinner of some omelet-type egg thing and french fries from our lovely dining hall. I then marched back upstairs to shower and hang out with my roommate and one of our other friends before I had to leave. I fixed a cup of coffee, drank it quickly, then left my dorm a little after 11 pm. Kelcie walked me to the metro station across from our dorm and we said our goodbyes. Honestly, it felt like I was leaving Paris for a lot longer than five days.

I swiped my Navigo pass and got on my train, heading about six stops to transfer to the RER. I still don’t exactly know what that is; I can’t tell the difference between it and the normal metro. But I digress. As I was switching to the RER, I noticed an American couple, probably in their early 30s, who didn’t speak a lick of French and were asking French people for directions to the airport. I went up to them, as they were still struggling to communicate with the English-speaking French woman they had asked for help, and offered to let them tag along with me. After all, three is better than one, right?

So the three of us struggled on. None of my map apps were working, probably sensing that I was tired and ready to be at the airport already, so we got off our train early then had to wait five minutes for the next one. I was hot and sweaty and I felt the pressure of the couple wanting to get to their destination weighing on me. (Were they actually showing any distress? No, that was all me.) We finally made it to our stop and I asked a couple people if they were going to the airport since I was the only one that could half-communicate in French. We were pointed in the right direction and got onto a bus, which stayed in its parked spot for another 20 minutes. It was after 12:30 at this point, and I was about ready to fall over.

We eventually began to move and so I leaned my head back and stared out the front of the bus, waiting for the arrival to terminal one which came after another half hour or so. The bus pulled into the terminal, and I parted ways with the American couple, who I learned was on their seven-years-delayed honeymoon. Giving my congratulations I went into the airport, ready to check my bag and find my gate. I took the inner-airport transit to the terminal I needed and found the machine things that check you in and print out your boarding pass. Only, it didn’t do either of those things for me. I continuously tried to get it figured out, but it kept saying to go to the counter. But there was no one working! Half of the lights were out and only janitorial staff were working. I finally flagged down a man wearing an orange vest and tried my best to ask him for help. He didn’t speak English, and my broken French isn’t great. Eventually we hit a point where neither one of us could understand the other, so he led me down an escalator and sat me down in a closed Starbucks where 10 other people slept in chairs. I thanked him for doing what he could and I started to panic as he walked away. Thoughts of missing my flight and not figuring out the boarding pass situation began to fill my mind. I felt restless and powerless as I sat in that darkened Starbucks. More worry started to fill me as a girl a few years older than me came in and settled down comfortably for a nap, because I thought if I fell asleep I would never wake up in time to look for my plane. A woman who was doing her skincare two seats from me served as a reminder that my face was breaking out just a couple days before my brother’s wedding, and I didn’t even bring face wash. I still have some at home, right?, I thought as the red spots on my face were becoming more clear in the pictures I was envisioning of me in the wedding pictures.

After 45 minutes, I couldn’t take it anymore. I had three hours until my flight and nothing was open, no one was awake. I took my suitcase and my purse and I walked up the stairs, because now the escalators were stopped. I paced back and forth by the counters that should have been open so that I may check my luggage, and all of my fears were hitting me. I texted my aunt–the only one in my family who knew I was coming, because this surprise was her gift to all of us. (Thanks again, auntie.) She tried to keep me calm and assure me that everything would be fine, but the panic was still taking over. I sat down on something I don’t think was intended to be used as a chair, and tears leaked out of my eyes. I was tired, and scared, and I knew that the only way to get through it at this point was to just get through. Finally, that realization snapped me back into reality and I wiped away my tears, telling myself to toughen up and get on home. So I looked up the hours of the airport, found a restroom, and cleaned up so I could look presentable when the time finally came for me to board.

Eventually the check-in counter opened and I was the first to check my bag, go through security, and find the gate. I was through. Hallelujah. They opened the doors and we all boarded onto the shuttle bus that would take us to the actual plane, but as the time approached 6:00 (our departure time) the bus wasn’t moving. A woman asked her husband why we hadn’t left yet, and another man responded we were definitely delayed. Are you kidding?! I thought to myself. After a few more minutes, the driver got in and the doors closed, sealing us passengers into the bus and out of the cold morning air. We drove for a few minutes until we got to the plane, where we all got in and left at about 6:15. A 15-minute delay is nothing, right?

Wrong. We touched down in Frankfurt, Germany, and I kept checking my watch as I realized that I had less than an hour to make it to my plane. I sprinted off the plane and ahead of everyone, beginning to panic once again. I found two polizei, the German police in the airport, and asked if it was possible to make it to Concourse Z in less than 30 minutes. “No,” they both said to me. As one of my professors says, expletive-deleted. However, the air changed and the two spoke in German to each other, and after a second they turned to me and told me they would take me. My eyes became saucers and I shoved my boarding pass and passport towards them as the three of us took long strides through the airport. They scanned me through security and customs and the taller one took my passport to get it stamped. We made it through all of the things that would have taken me over 45 minutes in under 15. They took me as far as they needed to, and I expressed my thanks and their power to save my life just then. We said goodbye and I sprinted through crowds of people in search of my gate. I found it, with a couple minutes to spare. I was still catching my breath as I showed the man at the door my passport and boarding pass.

The plane ride from Frankfurt to Chicago was much less exciting than my experience in the Frankfurt airport itself, so I slept and watched part of a documentary and slept some more. The final time I woke up, we were in Canada, almost to Michigan, so I stayed awake and shifted my gaze from the window to the map of the plane to the woman next to me’s screen. And we touched down in Chicago! Definitely a less stressful experience than before. My layover was about four times as long so I was able to get Starbucks, watch Charmed, and do some work for my assistantship. I then flew to Lexington, where I was met by my aunt. Definitely the most welcome hug I had had since I last was home. We drove an hour and a half to a Mexican restaurant, thank the Lord, and I was met by her friends who I love dearly. I was exhausted but was revived by chips and salsa and people.

After a while, Sharon, my aunt, and I went back to her house, where I helped pack some stuff for the next day’s journey to Oldham County and then I fell asleep. Once I woke up in the morning, we got ready and packed up the car, going to pick up flowers for the wedding and heading to my sister-in-law’s grandparent’s farm where the wedding was. We picked up coffee and breakfast and I drove us the rest of the way. Once we got to the farm, we were met by my sister (who knew the entire time I was coming home; what a snot). We called my brother and he drove down from the barn on a four-wheeler, where I popped out from behind a garbage can and said “bonjour!” A tearful reunion and a few “I can’t believe you’re here” exclamations later, I got back into hiding because my parents were coming up the driveway.

They got out of the car, and my aunt and brother were like “you have to see these flowers,” where I was hiding. My mom came around the back of the car holding two gallons of lemonade and found me in the back of the car. More tears and shock, then my dad saw me and went “ho-ly [expletive-deleted]!” Definitely the best surprise I have ever been a part of. Not the best reunion though–that came when I got tacos from my favorite place for my appetizer. Dinner was ribs and mac-n-cheese. I missed it.

Saturday was quite eventful. We woke up early to run a couple more errands and I helped Sharon take the flowers we had worked on the night before to the farm and set them up. I did my makeup in the car on the way, then sweated half of it off by the time we finished setting things up. We drove back and finished getting ready. The clock was ticking, always reminding us that whatever time we thought we had, we did not. After we were all done getting ready, my parents, my sister, and I drove back to the farm and got into our places for the wedding. I surprised some more family and friends with my presence, then the ceremony began.

I really have never been to a better, or more-tearful, wedding. Benjamin, my brother, was the perfect groom who had his initials embroidered into the cuff of his button down and his

name sewn into his jacket. He cried as Reagan, my sister-in-law, came and walked down the aisle. And Reagan was the perfect bride. She had the most beautiful dress that fit her and her personality well, and the glow of the fabric made her look like she too was glowing. Though she has been a part of the family for years, it was like Benjamin had officially locked in with his person, which I think sent our whole family into waterworks. (If you can’t tell, we cry a lot.) Callie, one of my nieces, was Reagan’s Maid of Honor, and my other niece, Amelia, was the flower girl. The officiant, one of the men in their small group, did a great job, and luckily made the ceremony fast but beautiful.

It wasn’t too hot, but perfectly warm. The fall colors that they had picked for the theme were in perfect harmony with the setting sun and the field behind them. And if there was anything better than the ceremony and the presence of heaven that we all sensed and saw in the sky, the reception quickly became one of the most memorable parties that I think anyone there had ever partaken in.

The groomsmen made their entrance, starting the party off strong. They were followed by the bridesmaids, who had said they were not to be outdone by the guys. And they were not. And once the two groups were in and settled, Ben and Reagan made their first entrance as husband and wife! After their first dance, dinner was served. The most amazing pizza from this one place in Louisville catered and it was a good and filling dinner. Then all the dances commenced, and I found myself lost in music and dancing with my sister and Reagan’s sisters. We all danced, and I spun Amelia and another little girl on my hips as we sang out to the music.

The night continued in good fun, and it was eventually remembered that the newlyweds had to cut the cake. Reagan’s cousin had made it, and it was on the cake plate that my own grandparents had received at their wedding. The same cake plate that has served the 1st-birthday cakes of my mom, my aunt, my siblings, me, and Amelia. So much history, continuing on with Benjamin’s wedding.

We all dug forks and fingers into this cake, with some of the younger kids eating directly from it. Granted, at that point in the night it was all family and friends that were considered family so no one thought twice about it. After more dancing, the four of us called it a night and bid farewell to everyone. I hugged my brother and my new sister tightly, glad that I could make it and surprise them for their wedding. I said goodbye to my nieces, still shocked by how much they had grown since the last time I had seen them, only a little over a month before. Then I hugged my other brothers goodbye, the ones that weren’t related by blood but instead my close friendships through Benjamin that caused them to be there for most of, if not my entire, life. (Pictured on the left are my siblings: my sister Virginia, Taylor, Benjamin, and me. Taylor and Ben have been friends for longer than I have been alive. Thank goodness for older brothers who love me and my sister well!... honorable mentions to Bryan, Royce, and Kyle.)

We drove on home, with sore feet and tired eyes. My mom and I sat on the edge of her bathtub, both of us taking our makeup off and pulling the bobby pins from each other’s hair. It, and another time from earlier that day when we were getting ready, reminded me of the scene in Mamma Mia where Donna (also my mother’s name) and Sophie were getting ready for Sophie’s wedding.

The next day, I slept in then we got to work helping clean up the flowers and extra things back at the farm, which took literally all day. With the exception of two special visits. The first being one to one of my mom’s good friends, who was quite surprised to see me. The second being to my best friend since second grade. We got blizzards from Dairy Queen (because what else on a Sunday night in Oldham County?) and unexpectedly saw one of our other best friends who was home for fall break. I needed the reunion, to be honest.

After I got back home, my mom and I took the last of the wedding stuff to Ben and Reagan’s house, hanging up flowers to dry and taking some for ourselves to press. When I got home, I packed some coats and warm clothes and went straight to bed. Wanda, my dog, and I were out. I missed her and my bed.

This morning, I said goodbye to my dad and my aunt, and then my mom and I started our drive to the airport. We ate breakfast and talked, and after over an hour post-breakfast, we arrived at the airport. The goodbye wasn’t as hard as the first time, because now I’ll be home in two months!

I did get here a little early, so I’ve had the opportunity to write almost 3,000 words and post this. If you’ve read this far, or any at all, thank you. It was a bit longer this time around but the past week of my life has been jam-packed with blog-worthy content. I appreciate you reading, as always. I hope this has been a good, though lengthy, read. A bientôt. Back to Paris I go.