Forgot to Look Both Ways

Look Right

We interrupt David’s stream of consciousness about air travel for this important message.

You know how in Britain they drive on the opposite side of the street than in the States? And how back home we always look to the left for oncoming traffic before crossing? Well, London has clearly had its fair share of befuddled Americans walking into traffic, seeing as it painted helpful suggestions on the pavement as to which way to look at almost every intersection. Earlier today, while crossing the Strand to get to the Courtald Gallery, David unfortunately missed this warning to “look right.” And with David, you can only imagine what happened. So his blog posts will still be published while we’re in London–but on a slightly delayed schedule. Read more »

My Baggage About Baggage

Overstuffed Baggage

I love to travel. I just hate getting there. And after this afternoon, I’m considering taking a contract out on Richard Branson.

The One and I leave in several hours to fly to London, our first time on Branson’s vaunted Virgin Atlantic. Now admittedly, packing has always been a problem for us. A big problem. We never seem to get it right. Too many bags. Too few bags. Overweight carry-ons. That sort of thing. When we flew to Barcelona two years ago on Lufthansa, we had to suffer through the humiliation of opening our suitcases and rifling through our clothes at the check-in counter in front of dozens of people so we could meet the airline’s stringent carry-on requirements—while a constipated-looking, SS-type airline representative stood watch over us, toe a-tapping. Read more »

That Paris Effect

Eiffel Tower

The moment I disembark at Charles DeGaulle Airport in Paris, something starts to happen. It’s an odd sensation, kind of like that moment when the Nicolas Feuillatte Champagne I’ve been knocking back begins tickling the backside of my eyeballs. At first it’s barely perceptible. Then it begins to bubble up as I watch the people in the airport, on the bus to Place d’Étoile, on the walk to the apartment we rent on Rue Balzac. But it doesn’t hit its effervescent climax until The One and I are sitting in a bistro tucked away somewhere on the Left Bank, watching Parisian life flit by. Read more »

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