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(By the way, George Bush, John Ashcroft or any minions, if you're reading this, I still fart in your general direction, you cheetoh-eating, war-mongering, money-grubbing sons of a Walmart!)
Here's the update on our Air France Code Orange New Year's Eve flight.
After a less than wonderful visit with the inlaws (love the inlaws, but my husband had the flu, I got a cold, and we're California weather wimps, too soft for the Paris weather), we arrived at CDG 2 1/2 hours early, expecting big security, and we were right. All bags were hand searched in the check-in line. What impressed me, though, was that the searchers were these lovely, smiling young women in designer uniforms (I could do a chapter on the AF uniforms), who actually carefully tucked my stuff back into the suitcase before closing it. ("Vous etes tres gentiles")
When we made it to the ticket counter, we thought we were ok until the ticket guy said we had one too many bags, and we had to pay extra (120 Euros) for a bag. (We had exactly the same number of bags we had when we came in, so who knows why, it all seemed very capricious.) However, my lovely husband handled things calmly and politely pointed out the injustice of it all. After wrangling bags around to find the lightest one, moving a pair of scissors from this one to that to avoid carrying them on, and finally agreeing to part with the Euros, we were given our tickets. ("Merci, mais les regulations sont fous.")
It was not until we were on our way down the plane aisles that we saw we had been UPGRADED TO BUSINESS CLASS! Damn! Only in France, I swear to God, would some ticket guy feel sorry for you because you have to pay extra for your bags, and then give you an upgrade worth 10 times as much as the extra money forked out for the bag! We could NOT believe it! It was a very full flight and they had lots of big families on board, so they probably instructed ticket agents to upgrade some folks, and (I think) because we were pleasant throughtout the injustice of having to pay the big bucks, we were the lucky winners! I'm so glad my husband was in charge, because I usually get snippy in these situations. I am not fluent enough to be snippy in French, and undergo a personality change in this already polite language. So I stood by and smiled wanly, nodded and said merci on occasion, and moved the "scissos" around.
My wonder at the amazing meals, the reclining seats and the little gift pack, including warm socks, was increased by the fact that they offered little sanwiches and petits fours in a little buffet near the lavatories. Geez, I had no idea! We savored every minute, knowing that it will probably be a very long time before we ever fly business again, and we arrived home in a state of near-humaness, even after having my beloved seeds "seized" at customs. Yep. "Seized". Seems that packaged seed is no longer allowed in without a special form. I've never had trouble before, and have always claimed them, and if they are packaged, they're fine. Sigh...
So, in closing, I would like to tell George Bush to give me my *$#% pumpkin seeds back. And, by the way, I plan to breed a new variety of pumpkin called 'Orange Alert', and dedicate it to him. It will be a pumpkin with no seeds, no flesh, and will only fruit after liberal applications of a particular brand of fertilizer manufactured by subsidiaries of FOX News.
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