Maxwell's Lost Again

I watched Midnight in Paris on the plane and wondered if I was idealizing a different era in my own life. Paris is exactly as I remember and not at all. I learned from at least one mistake, and booked my room for the previous night so I could get into it when I finally got into the city at 9am. A short 2 hour journey from touch down to the sixth flight of stairs of my airbnb. I contemplated rebooking my old hostel, St Christopher’s Inn, but after reliving my Lub D days in Bangkok and meeting the Vancouver boys, I decided it was best not to fall into the hostel party scene again. We all age out of some things.

The lessons learned don’t lead to much, I arrived and failed to nap, just waited around in my shoe-box until it was time to go meet Joshy and Tyler and Conner at the park five minutes from my place. I earnestly debated buying a hotel room just so I didn’t have to walk up the six flights of stairs again. The only truly bad part about not sleeping is the way it makes your legs feel as if you’ve ran a marathon. Do they reset at night? Getting off at the wrong metro stop and lugging my bags a few kilometers likely didn’t help. Alas. We persevere.

I am alive in all the excitement because I do not yet know what I will do from Thursday on, or really even for the rest of the weekend. I will try and make it until 10 or 11 pm tonight. I am booked through Saturday. I may go to Geneva or Milan or maybe somewhere as of yet unthought of, or maybe I’ll just stay in Paris until the final hour. I am meeting my family in Florence on Monday. The days run together like the words of the Frenchman checking me into my room.