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Time to go home.
With the new job this year, I’ve been through quite a few airports, and some (looking at you, Des Moines) have obviously been a bit more, shall we say, cozy than others.
I really didn’t expect that at Orly, but that’s what we got. Once you pass through security, all the gates are right there together. You find a seat, you better hold on to it.
Speaking of holding on to seats … I was one of the lucky masses pulled aside to have our bags and bodies checked before we could board our planes.
It’s not weird in the slightest that all of us pulled aside were English speakers. Nope, not a bit.
So I wait my turn—and wait and wait, because they’ve got a dozen of us pulled out of line at a time and only three people to check us out, gotta love French efficiency—and finally it’s my chance to get groped.
They search everything. I had already turned off my phone and put it in my backpack because it’s not like I was going to use it on the plane. Nope, I have to turn it on, then the dame checking my bag shoves the phone back in there, still on. She also takes everything else out, including an old book wrapped in cellophane that I had bought off the street. She had to unwrap that too just in case I planted a bomb inside.
Just glad I didn’t have anything too personal in the backpack. Know what I mean?
So she gets done tearing everything out and shoving it back in willy-nilly—if I pack better than you, you’ve got a serious problem—and the one guy on duty comes over to feel me up. I was wise enough to not say he should have at least bought me dinner first.
They finally get done with me and we head off to the bus to take us to our plane, which is about halfway back to Paris proper, I think. We’re among the last ones to board and of course, we’re three rows from the back of this monstrosity. But it’s OK, because the fine attendants on Air France are going to treat us well, right?
Eh, no. Figures we wouldn’t be treated rudely until we were headed home.
Signs, signs, where are the signs? Let’s jump ahead to New York, shall we?
Here’s the good thing: being Americans and all, our line to get through customs is significantly shorter than the line for non-Americans, so we breeze through, even though we apparently didn’t need to go into as much detail as we thought when writing down what we were bringing back with us. A cursory glance from the Customs guy and the form went into the trash.
Next, we have to wait for our baggage so we can go around a corner and give it back. I know, makes as much sense to me as it does to you reading it. The big problem is that, once you get around that corner, there were no signs for Delta. Finally found the right line after getting pointed in one direction, then back, a couple times.
So that was fun. Almost as much fun as going through TSA again just to get to our next flight, then waiting for the flight crew to get out of the bar and show up.
Speaking of said flight crew … if we have to wait on you to show up, don’t give my wife grief when she asks for coffee and water. Lazy ass.
Whew. That felt good to get off my chest.
Random notes. So let’s empty out the notebook, so to speak:
• So way back when, I referenced watching “Captain America: Civil War” on the flight over. On the way back, I checked out “X-Men: Apocalypse” and (sigh) “Batman v Superman.”
Let’s start with that last one. BvS had its moments, but it really is a slog. I’m probably not the only person who’s come to this conclusion, but here it is: I think Zack Snyder actively hates Superman (he seems to hate joy and happiness as well, and apparently loathes logical storytelling, but that’s another rant). That’s the only possible explanation I can see for this and “Man of Steel.” Not sure why one would take on the job if one hates the subject of said job, but I guess the money’s good for ol’ Zack.
As for the X-Men, it’s interesting to watch this movie when the rest of the MCU looms over it. It’s not bad, per se, but “Apocalypse” is yet another example of the disaster porn that these superhero movies have become. Still, Michael Fassbender does a hell of a job as Magneto, especially when his wife and daughter are accidentally killed, ruining his dreams of a simple life in Poland.
Oh, yeah, spoiler alert, yada yada.
Anyway, “Civil War” rocks, “Apocalypse” isn’t bad and “BvS” is exactly what everyone else has said it is. OK, to be fair, the dueling funeral scenes for Superman and Clark Kent at the end were moving, I’ll give them that. Oops, spoiler alert again.
• Lest this whole thing come across as too gripey, let me just end on this note: this really was an awesome experience, and I mean that in the traditional sense of awe-inspiring. To be honest, I never thought we would ever be able to afford an overseas trip, or be able to find the time to do so.
I’m glad we did. Standing (almost) at the top of the Eiffel Tower … seeing the lingering effects of war interspersed with the beautiful countryside of Normandy … drinking German beer in Germany … heck, getting sick from eating food from a street vendor in Paris … it was a hell of a ride. I’m not sure how well I’ve shared the experience–years of striving for journalistic objectivity may have dulled my ability to tell my story, but hopefully I’ve done a good enough job of keeping my many fans out there entertained while I took my sweet time finishing this.
Thank you all for reading.