Your last day: waking up is always like waking up on the day your best friend is moving away. You feel like if you just sleep in, your slumber will somehow stop the horrid event from occurring. We were leaving Paris that afternoon and no amount of extra sleep would change that. Plus, we had several big things to kick in that day beforehand, so I didn't have NO time to be morose.
We 'checked' our bags with the hotel, right in front of the elevators. I wouldn't be surprised if they went on display at the D'Orsay while we were out.
Mean Frenchman front desk guy - affectionately nicknamed Pepé Le Pew- was probably only too happy to look through them and until he saw that we brought nothing but ugly American clothes, and my signature fragrance, "Fat, Loud, and Ugly by America" that I wore everyday of the trip.
If was finally time to tour Old Man Eiffel. Unfortunately (and fortunately) we chose the day that heaven decided to come and halfway devour Big E.
Let me make two things clear: it was cool and I was fa-reaking out. Here are the pictures to prove it (thanks dear)...
"I must be dreaming..."
One of our best friends sitting behind us. He's always goofin'.
It was finally time to catch our train back to London and bid a tearful farewell to Pepé. We have since become pen pals and he may one day be the godfather of our children. Except no, he just gave us nasty looks while we cried over the best pastries we had ever eaten in our lives from a bakery across the street.
Then we saw some of this...
I think this was a cool touch.
The last/rest of the night in London included getting terribly lost walking our bags around the mean streets. A British band giddily ribbed me in the hotel elevator because I asked what the heck "gammy" meant (in reference to Digestives). They told me, and added "Take that back to America gurrr-ly. It will be huge!" In hindsight the band was One Direction.
Jokes. Jokes. It was probably Mumford and Sons though.
We ate Pho and slept like bears until the morning of our flight back to the Americas.