A Journey Through Charles de Gaulle Airport
30 days prior to this shenanigans was nothing but worry free high spirits and holiday cheer. Things in America just kind of work and you don’t realize how much you take for granted until you leave home…or just expose yourself to another way of life.
Here it goes:
9:50pm departure from NYC to Paris and I board the plane with my new electronic vaporizer and headphones. Two hours later, a French flight attendant spotted the beaming green light from my e-cig and said to me with a thick French accent, “Sour, yooo hov gut tu poo thaa eway on this airplane.”
I admit to my stupidity but I thought I’d get away with the “It’s not smoke” line… I got caught and the karma follows.
The airplane touches down in Paris at 10:40am and I cram my stuff into my book bag. I haven’t slept a wink. I yonder out of the plane with the biggest yawn of my life and I’m surrounded by French folk.
My next flight departs at 12:20pm which gives me plenty of time. The airport is gigantic so I went out my way to ask for guidance. At this moment, I did not need to enter the Schengen (France). I only needed to board my next flight.
The first nicely dressed floor walker employee I encountered was kind enough to give me directions but he sent me the wrong way. I realized this the second I got my passport stamped.
“Hold up, I don’t think I need a French stamp. I’m trying to catch another flight to Romania”, I said to the stamp guy.
He did mumble some words from behind the glass but all I understood were his gestures that told me to move along. 20 minutes later, I had to go straight back through customs and security! I finally made it to my gate with plenty of time to spare, so I thought. I didn’t even know what time it was. But this gate to depart for Romania was at the tail end of the airport – out in no mans land.
There were plenty of screens displaying the flight times but not a damn one that showed the time of day. Waiting patiently in the company of about five Romanians, I decided to grab some food, practically ‘sleep eating’.
While enjoying my snack, I turned to my right to ask an older man for the time. He showed me his expensive watch and I read 12:15pm.
If it weren’t for the 500 yards between me and the gate, I swear I would have made my flight. I pulled my hamstring sprinting to the end of the world to take a flight to another end of the world.
I arrive to the gate terminal sweating bullets with a glob of mayonnaise on my jacket. Distressed to the max, I try to sweet talk these guys into letting me board my flight.
Then I realized I had no hope and I blamed it all on their employees giving me faulty directions and wasting my time stamping my passport. (I received 2 french stamps by the way and I wasn’t even supposed to get one!)
The guy told me that another flight would cost 350Euros and I asked if that much money would help teach their employees English to better assist their customers. He apologized for the inconvenience and handed me a calling card with French instructions as if that would save my sanity.
WHERE ARE THE FUC&*NG CLOCKS?
At maximum frustration, I approach a help desk counter and ask the ladies “Where are the clocks in this airport? I can’t find the damn time?”
Her response reminded me that everything is going to be alright. She said “Clocks honey? Don’t you know the French aren’t that fond of time…welcome to France”!
I laughed, said thanks and went on with my spiel about being misguided through the airport which led to me missing my flight. She cringed when I told her my destination and she said I might freeze to death in Romania. I told her I will die if I don’t get out of this airport.
I was so close to buying another flight, but I don’t give in that easy. I think I had just met the nicest French lady in the world.
She made a few calls and I waited. “I’ll figure this out, just a moment” she kept telling me. An hour later she whipped out a formal document for a new flight to board in two hours, 100% free of charge.
I glued myself to the boarding gate area with two hours to go, but ended up falling asleep. I was the last passenger to board the flight thanks to the concierge for shaking me three minutes before boarding closed.
I was reminded that I’m back in Bucharest when a man stood up to remove his luggage from the overhead cabinet the moment the plane landed. I mean seriously dude, what the hell were you thinking?
Me or that guy?
No wonder the Charles de Gaulle airport takes the #1 spot for worst airports to visit in Europe.
While everyone dreams of visiting Paris and its assets, the welcoming is not that great. Apparently the French are so stubborn that they don’t care much about speaking English in an INTERNATIONAL airport. ‘Why come to France if you don’t know French?’ This will get you in a bit of a pickle especially if you book flights with connections. Always make sure that you have enough time between connections or else you will find yourself lost and unable to find your way out (the signs are quite poor and airport employees are not that helpful). In addition to this, the restrooms are not maintained properly enhancing the feeling of dinginess and the airport tends to get really hot in the summer and quite cold in the winter. So beware!
