Dream Journal
Melissa, Damon and I went with Karen B to Paris. I was amazed at how short the flight was and that we had no layovers - the last time I went to Paris I had a layover in Chicago and the flight was extraordinarily long.
Once there, I realized that I didn’t ask my parents if I could go and they didn’t know where Melissa and I were. I mentioned this to Damon, and he said that his wife didn’t know where he was, either, but that the trip was only for 24 hours so its okay. I told him that no, the tickets were for 5 days - I had seen them. He wasn’t concerned at all, but he was going to be on vacation next week, and his wife would not be happy.
We checked into the best western. Karen didn’t speak French so I tried talking to the man at check-in counter. He was sitting on the other side of a wide desk behind a glass window.
“Salut. Parlez-vous Englais?” He didn’t speak any English. He spoke hundreds of languages, but not English. I tried to form the sentence, ‘may we have the key to our room, please?’ but all I could remember were the nouns for key and room. After some pantomiming, he gave us our key and we went out onto the sidewalk to find our room.
All the room doors were right on the road, and we walked past a few doors marked in the mid-400s. Our room was #6, and it was going to be a very, very long time before we reached our door. Karen called us back to the lobby and suggested we go out the other door on the other side of the building - that is where the lower numbers would start.
Themes: Hotel