In the air

I took the late flight out of Boston to CDG. This meant I had the entire day to pack, participate in a few phone conferences, clear the urgencies from my to-do list, get a haircut, buy some facilitation supplies and set the table outside for our goodbye dinner ‘sur l’herbe.’ Axel enhanced the festivities by catching three sizeable lobsters of which I ate two, washed away with more than a half bottle of cool Prosecco; I figured it would help me sleep (which it did).

I am flying on an Air France ticket rather than the usual Delta ticket. I don’t know how that happened, didn’t think we are allowed to, questioned it and then accepted it – what else can you do when the passport and the ticket show up about half a day before departure time?

Flying Air France was both good and bad. Good because the plane left from Terminal E where there is a restaurant which we used to frequent in the Northwest Orient days. Bad because I nearly got victimized by two airlines dueling for my loyalty, and worse because the seats on the Air France, when you are not belonging to the elite, are made for skinny teenagers. The patent lawyer sitting next to me apologized for his broad shoulders which meant he got to have the armrest; I tried to flatten against the window and then fell asleep. And now I am in the sunny banlieux of Paris.

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