I spent a semester abroad in Paris, but didn't really talk about it much on this blog. One interesting anecdote from my trip was when I was leaving Paris at the end of the semester. I was departing from CDG and I had 2 big bags. I decided it was too much of a pain to carry my bags through the metro/RER, so I booked a Super Shuttle to the airport. It was fairly reasonable at about $30 USD, whereas a taxi would be about $75 from where I was staying.
The night before my trip home, I kind of put off packing and ended up staying up until about 6 am. The Super Shuttle was scheduled to pick me up at 8 am. I debated whether or not I should go to bed, but decided the hour or so of sleep would be worth it.
I awoke to my phone ringing. I answered it and it was some French guy screaming at me. I was still in dreamland so I just said "oui" and hung up. Suddenly, it hit me. My alarm hadn't gone off. I looked at my clock and it said 8:10 am. I realized it was Super Shuttle calling and I immediately called them back. In my best French I tried to ask him if he could wait for 10 minutes, but he said he couldn't and the fare was non-refundable. At this point, I decided I'd just take a taxi.
I did some last minute packing and quickly cleaned up my apartment. It took about 20 minutes to get out of my apartment because the elevator was only big enough to take down one bag at a time. I was on the the 7th floor (the top floor) and the elevator was dreadfully slow. I finally got all my bags out, and there wasn't a taxi in sight. I dragged my bags a few blocks over to a busier street. There were plenty of taxis, but they were all taken. It was rush hour. I stood there flailing my arms frantically at taxis for about 20 minutes, but it was no use. Every single taxi was taken. Suddenly, out of nowhere a taxi pulled up right in front of me. He said something to me in French I didn't understand. I was so excited to see him that I pretty much started putting my bags in the car. He then asked in French if I was the person who had called -- a Mr. Robinet. I told him yes. He didn't believe me, but he could see the desperation in my eyes and motioned for me to get in.
I finally arrived at Terminal 1 and looked at the departure board to see that my flight had been delayed. I raced to the check-in counter and of course my bags were overweight. After 10 minutes or so of shuffling stuff around, I had my ticket and made my way through security. The gate area was packed with people, and I asked a gate agent how long the delay would be. She said she was unsure, but it would probably be at least another 2 hours. Damn, all that running for nothing. So in the end, I made my flight and everything worked out fine and since then I've gotten a new alarm clock.
