We made it!!! Our trip was very entertaining and unlike anything either of us had ever experienced before.

Mom and Dad drove me and Molly down to the Twin Cities on the 28th. It was a really quick trip. No sooner had they picked up Molly, and we were in the Minneapolis Airport and I, in spite of my stoic background, was fighting the intense desire to burst into waterworks and drown us all.

The first quote of the trip was made right in the glorious old USA, too. The funniest security man I had ever come in contact with looked right at me and in dead seriousness asked me if I had any livestock in my suitcase. I said that no, I didn’t have any livestock in my suitcase and he replied, “well, you looked like the typical chicken smuggler.” I burst into peals of laughter that lasted all the way through the TSA agent frisking.

It was a pretty uneventful layover in Philadelphia, and we piled aboard a plane destined for France. What I didn’t mention was the utter brilliance of FLIRTING with the ticket counter guy. I asked him very nicely if Molly and I could sit next to each other, and he smiled and gave us FOUR SEATS instead of, you know, TWO. So long story short, we tried to sleep like normal human beings on a plane that was being tossed around by turbulence and a captain who kept bellowing over the loudspeaker, “FASTEN YOUR SEATBELTS!!!!”

Finally in France, we hailed a taxi (sort of) and spoke French to him (sort of) and then got to the right train station at JUST THE RIGHT TIME to get our tickets in French (sort of) and board a train (we were pretty sure) was headed for Caen.

Then the fun began. As the train threatened to leave, we stood there like nincompoops looking at our tickets like they were written in Chinese instead of French. Where do we sit? Which class is this wagon? Why is nothing written on this stupid ticket? HEY, DO YOU SPEAK ENGLISH?! HELP! HOLY CRAP, THE TRAIN IS MOVING. So we, with seconds to spare, hoisted three ENORMOUS bags into the train and while the sliding glass doors closed at least thirty-five times on Molly, I gaped again at our tickets and prayed for numbers to appear out of nowhere.

Now we’re sitting across from a woman who speaks no English (we think) and consequently thinks we’re taken complete leave of our senses, two guys who are talking about us (we think) in a wagon full of French people who (we think) speak no English if we were to end up in, say, Marseille (the other end of the country).

Pray for us.

Oh yeah. And then, to top off the story, we’re just BEGGING the timing gods to let Laura, Kelsey and Danielle be at the train station when WE are at the train station. Because that would be grand.

Stay tuned. :)

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