The Inlaws Visit Episode One: Revenge of the Baggage

The next several Blog Posts will document the recent visit of Abbey’s parents: Due to the traumatizing and irritating nature of many of the events that transpired during their visit their names have been changed to protect the innocent. Abbey’s name was not changed as she knew good and well what she was getting herself into when she said “Yes” when I asked for her delicate hand in marriage (her “yes” was immediately followed by “this is weird!!”). Abbey’s parents came to visit, and this is their story.

I paid closer attention to the passing of each minute in my Friday afternoon Egypt class. By no means was my distraction due to my not being absolutely enthralled with the professor’s latest brilliant lecture. Rather, I watched each second tick by because upon returning to our apartment, I would be greeted by our first family visitors: Abbey’s Parents. This trip had been on the calendar since Abbey and I were residing in her parent’s guest room and it was difficult to believe that it had finally arrived. When I came home it was silent. Abbey had gone off with her mother, Centieme, to…I’m not entirely sure where they went, but Abbey’s father, Garcon, was in the apartment alone…in a country where he didn’t speak the language and 66.66% of the people he knew here had abandoned him. Fortunately, I arrived in time to explain that I too had many times fallen victim to sitting alone in an apartment where the television speaks only French. Centieme and Abbey arrived shortly thereafter and we were off on adventure #1: Operation Snacktime.

We made our way to Butte aux Cailles to go to a delicious creperie which – perhaps foreshadowing the rest of the weekend – was closed. Unfazed, we stopped at a small boulangerie for baguette pizzas which were absolutely delicious. After purchasing enough food to make dinner, we returned to our humble abode, gathered our belongings and began the trek to Centieme and Garcon’s villa at the Euro-Disney Marriot. This, dear readers, is where our story truly begins.

Abbey and I planned to stay at Centieme and Garcon’s villa for Friday and Saturday night as Garcon had arranged for a private tour of a winery outside of Epernay on Saturday afternoon. Abbey had developed a slight cough accompanied by a mild throatache, but we had a few days of rest and relaxation ahead of us – surely the rest would allow Abbey’s immune system to successfully dispose of the attack on her well-being. Abbey packed up two purses worth of clothes and toiletries and I filled one large purse with clothing and books and one small purse with my wallet, metro card, keys, and change (all meticulously organized, mind you). Centieme and Garcon each had two medium sized suitcases and Centieme had one purse. We descended eight floors from our apartment (God only knows how many total trips we made in order to move ourselves and all of the luggage from floor 8 to floor 0). After walking the eighth of a mile or so to the Metro stop, we boarded the metro…it was roughly 5:30PM.

Centieme and Garcon were on roughly hour 18 of travel and still going strong – I was and still am quite proud of their perseverance. After twenty minutes of standing armpit to shoulder with 157 of our closest French co-passengers, we unloaded all of our bags and tried to figure out which long, dark, urine-smelling hallway led from metro 6 to RER A. We made it. At some point, Abbey heard an announcement regarding the fact that the RER A would be preturbed on Monday. This announcement was quickly dismissed. Carrying a total of 10 purses/suitcases/bags full of groceries. We were on the train. It was fairly crowded. There were no empty seats when we boarded the RER so all of our luggage was stacked against the wall. As seats opened up, Garcon and I encouraged Abbey and Centieme to have a seat while we stood and watched the luggage like the scholars and gentlemen we are. When another seat opened up, I encouraged Garcon to take it while I watched the luggage. He did. Two stops (roughly 25 minutes) later, I realized that this was no wall that we had propped the luggage against, it was a door and it was going to open momentarily. I played jumbo-speed-jenga (a game I invented then and there, copyright pending) with our luggage to keep it from falling out of the car. Success. I broke a sweat. I took of my jacket. Abbey coughed. We got to our final destination. Neither my nor Abbey’s metro card worked. You see, when travelling VIA RER, one must scan their card in order to both enter and leave the station. I may or may not have run through the turnstiles behind Centieme in order to avoid being stuck in the station, but Abbey was too honest to attempt such a deceitful act. Fortuitously there was a young gentleman who was slightly inebriated with a beer in one hand and a metro card-containing-wallet in the other who – I jest you not – handed his wallet to Abbey to let her in. He must not have been French. From here, we carried all of our luggage to the larger-than-expected bus station to find bus #34 to Centieme and Garcon’s villa. We found the bus. Once again, not wanting to just rush on with the crowd of non-paying imbeciles, Abbey stopped to pay the bus driver for our tickets.

When Abbey and I stopped to pay for our tickets, a young gentleman exclaimed “while we are young please!” Standing right beside him, I looked him in the eye (after noticing that he was shorter and skinnier than I am) and – as politely as I could muster – informed him that his exclamatory remark reminded me of behavior that I most closely associate with a mule. He proceeded to tell me that he spoke English (though I don’t know where he got the impression my name was Richard as he called me a common nickname for one whose name is Richard) after which I congratulated him on this grand linguistic achievement and he quickly made his way to the back of the bus. It was now 9:00 PM and I was tired, sweaty, hungry, and annoyed with this English-speaking young man and make no apologies for my less-than-pastoral response to his less-than-polite demand for a speedy boarding. He debarked the bus after 15-20 minutes and made sure to stare at me as he walked away…because only extremely tough, intimidating characters stare someone down through the windowpane of a bus that is driving away. But I digress. At the next stop the bus driver turned and informed us that this was the Marriot stop. I would have sworn under oath that she was lying. Exiting the bus I saw no buildings. I saw a road. Apparently this road led to the Marriot.

A fifteen minute walk later, Abbey, Centieme, Garcon, and I found ourselves at the welcome desk of the Marriot. 10 Minutes later we found ourselves in their villa. We ate dinner and shared our individual experiences of the roughly four hour commute between Paris and the Marriot. At some point, one of us pointed out that this trek would be made five or six more times. It was subsequently stated that the next few times no luggage would be involved. Abbey took some medicine and went to bed. She still didn’t feel great, but figured a night of rest would do the trick. Centieme and Garcon went to bed shortly thereafter. Finally I went to bed in order to get some sleep before the 7AM wake up call that would ensure that all four of us would be on the 8:15AM taxi to the bus station to go on the aforementioned winery tour.

So ended day ½. Tune in next time for The Inlaws Visit Episode Two: The Winery.