As I do the preflight walk around, I notice a single circuit breaker popped open.
“What the…?”
The designation for the popped breaker? “CAB PRES”.
“Well, looks like we found the cause of my edema.” I say checking the other circuit breakers to see if anything else is out. No others, so at least it’s an isolated problem.
Rarity climbs aboard and finds me feeling up the board.
“Well Rarity,” I begin as I stand up from checking the board, “I think I got an answer for my edema.”
“What do you mean?”
“Remember during the descent how there was a notable change in air density?”
“I don’t recall, I may have been asleep.”
“Well, our cabin pressurization system failed at altitude, and by the looks of it, this one got me real good. Did you happen to notice anything strange right around the time you left the cockpit before I turned the seat belt sign on?”
“No. I don’t think so.” She says somewhat nervously. “Though there is a very small chance I may have… pulled it out while I was trying to get you to… notice me.”
“Well, in any case, on the extreme off-chance you accidentally pulled it out, it’s fine. I’m fine. There’s no way to tell. All we have to do is reset it and test everything. Then we can get going. Cockpit or cabin?”
“I’ll record my wing landing on this leg.”
“Alrighty.”
A short hourlong hop to Paris–Le Bourget places our arrival and customs procedures at 3 am in the morning. After we clear in to France, I brush up on my French, fire up the Rolls, and make for my much smaller but compensatorily more European house within 10 km of Disneyland Paris.
Next morning, we both wake up rather late due to the late night we had coming from London, but it all works out nicely, as after fueling up in Vincennes, a disastrous accident involving three cars clogs the highway we’re on. Two motorcycles are also on their kickstands, with at least one of the drivers talking to one of the assumed drivers. Must be a witness.
Soon, we meet the Seine and reach Paris proper, where I immediately start a driving tour. After jumping off the highway, I drive through Place de la Bastille then catch Rue Saint Antoine heading westbound.
Passing the Louvre, Notre Dame and Places Vendome et de la Concorde, I head for Point de l’Alma and Flamme de la Liberté, memorializing Princess Diana right outside the tunnel where she was tragically killed. Fun fact, the gold leaf flame is a replica of the torch that the Statue of Liberty bears. Makes sense, since lady liberty was also a gift from les Français.
Even for a Saturday, there is an unusually low amount of city traffic. Without putting my foot down, and able to point out almost all the attractions we pass, I defer le Tour and continue on to Moulin Rouge and Sacré-Cœur Basilica.
Pulling over right by the steps up to the Paris Sacred Heart, I explain that one of my greatest memories in Paris is climbing the steps of both Sacred Heart and the Eiffel Tower.
As Rarity stops to take pictures, I ask if she got good pictures elsewhere, but she says she’s “saving up” for the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe, and Notre Dame, plus Normandy and Dunkirk if possible.
After she says she’s ready, I head for Parc de Champ du Mars. The route we’re taking will be an adventure. We’re going to drive round the Arc de Triomphe.
When I jump in, a large throng of about 8 cars wide swallows us in. Trying to stay in the outer rim, I keep calm and collected until a random Peugeot comes in and blocks us in and then after catching up, refuses to change their speed, effectively blocking us from taking an exit.
“Sors de la route, crétin!” (Get out of the way, jackass!”)
With just enough space, I lightly pump the brakes and throw the wheel, almost in the style of a heel-toe shift racing driver (even in an bipedal car) to catch our exit to park in front of Trocadéro, allowing Rarity the perfect pictures and selfies within a view of Eiffel and the surrounding park.
When we finish, I ask if she wants to make the drive out to either Dunkirk or Normandy by asking her this question.
“Do you want to Save Private Ryan or tread where Harry Styles tread?”
“Darling, can’t we do both?”
“Why not? I have money for petrol, we have all day to explore. Where to first?”
“How about we go in War order?”
“So, Dunkirk first?”
“Sure.”
“Ok then.” I say as I set course for Dynamo Beach/Harbor.
The fastest route is not the shortest, as we get routed through Lille, which is good for us, because we find a small patisserie to grab a small snack before we sombre up.
3 hours outside of Paris, I park at the Memorial Museum, where we enter and explore the exhibits. Having been moved to tears at the film, I take my time here, especially because Normandy did and will invoke similar emotions.
Eventually, we leave Dunkirk and even drive through Calais jumping ahead to Omaha Beach. We may not get to enjoy much daylight at the rate we left Paris, but hopefully we’ll catch a spectacular sunset.
On the French highway, I occasionally monitor Rarity in the back seat, reclined and dozing off as your typical Rolls Royce passenger does. To that I smile and pick up the pace, wary of French police on a Saturday patrol.
When we roll in ever so poshly (if that) to the parking lot for the Cimetière Américain, there aren’t many here, to my surprise, though the memorial is closing soon, so I guess we can explore in the limited amount of time left.
I catch my sunset and start to tear up. When I was in high school, amidst biting cold and vicious, stinging, icy wind, I played The Star Spangled Banner, America the Beautiful, On A Hymnsong of Philip Bliss (It Is Well With My Soul), and Abide With Me with my concert band, playing towards the beach. It’s pretty difficult playing outdoors in inclement weather, into an ice-cold instrument. Wasn’t optimal, but I was still overtaken with emotion at that performance. It’s no different today, though it is much warmer and I am no longer with my clarinet.
After I clean my photos up digitally before snapping a few more, I wait until the actual ball of sun disappears below the horizon before we leave the parking lot. It wasn’t a long visit, but coming up here nonetheless was still enough to leave me moved as I was when I was here last.
In preparation for a long 3 1/2 hour drive back to Paris, I head for the first petrol station on the route and pick up some water. Like most of my life, I’ve spent more time on my arse than feet, so I guess we’ll have to make up for it as we continue exploring.
Next morning, we head straight for Le Tour de Eiffel so we can climb up to the top. A nice day to venture out into town in comfortable clothing is only thrown off by the expected Sunday crowds.
Nevertheless, I barely manage to squeeze into a parking spot a few blocks from the tower and find the means of payment. Anticipating no more than a couple hours, I pay for two and set a timer.
As we make our way to ticketing, Rarity insistently covers for us and sends me to queue instead. In line, I steal a kiss.
“What was that for?”
“City of Love, right? And because this is my first time here in a long time.“
“Well, I’m glad I could be your reason to come back.” She says clutching the arm she grabs.
By my request, we ascend from the base to the first floor via stairs. Last time I took the stairs, I got nervous, but I was also much more acrophobic then. This time, I’m being a proper tourist and quashing those fears by reading all the informational boards after each flight of stairs.
When we reach the second floor, I get nervous again, since the stairs here are narrow, consistent with the tower’s design. Of course, the large passenger lifts for those that don’t want to climb the flights of stairs beat us up almost threefold, but with Rarity by my side, I swallow my fear and continue the ascent with my hand in hers, excitedly ascending the tower like there’s something blissful waiting for us at the top. I mean, there is, but there’re also crowds to fight.
After the second floor, the stairs end, so we all have to queue for a lift to the very top. It’s a crowded one too, for the crowd sizes. Nevertheless, I force myself to suck in and bunch Rarity with me, and just to quell my own nerves of the open air view, I hug Rarity from behind and whisper “sorry, I’m slightly acrophobic” into her ear.
“I’ve never enjoyed you more.”
When we reach the top, I drop a few Euros into a tip box for the lift operator and step out into the beautiful summertime view of Paris. I get pictures of all four sides and wiggle my way through couples doing sunlit kisses on the east side.
Obliging Rarity on all four sides sans a kissing selfie, we spend quite a bit of time up here to soak in the views, though there are quite a few things we still have to do in Paris. With plenty of time and lots of energy, we depart Le Tour de Eiffel and head for the Louvre, where I can find a parking space in their garage.
When I slide in to a parking spot at Louvre garage, Rarity finagles her way out due to the suicide door and a tight fit next to the others around us.
Once again, Rarity covers the tickets, and once through security, we visit the Mona Lisa (too Roman), Venus de Milo (too Greco), the Code of Hammurabi (too Babylon), and of course, the glass pyramids (too Franco).
When we leave the Louvre, we walk to Place de la Concorde to begin our walk down Champs Elysées. That way, if she sees something she wants, we can purchase it and/or hold it while we go up the Arc de Triomphe.
As we’re traversing Champs Elysées westbound first, our eastbound return should cover both sides.
As we walk down the Avenue, Rarity pulls off the high society walk beautifully, which makes me chuckle. Rarity being Rarity and watching her let her inner little girl loose is entertainingly beautiful. I said it with Twilight too. It’s rare to see someone so excited about the things that influenced them and shaped them as a child and now as an adult, doing them well, reflected in the successes and accomplishments in each of their careers. It’s an amazing thing.
When we reach the Arc, we pause at the tomb of the unknown soldier before beginning our journey to the top. Sure, the 284 stairs here are nothing compared to the 674 of Eiffel, but even so, when we get to the top, the view is still pretty. I remember these views better than Eiffel in fact, mostly because we’re closer to the rooftops, the sides of the Arc aren't covered by fences or grates, and Champs Elysées is both an obvious presence (by the distinctly trimmed trees) and a good indicator of our orientation.
Spending more time in the climb up than atop, we continue. Downstairs to avoid some crowds and to get back to the Louvre via Champs Elysées’ other side.
Passing a few of the shops that pique my interest, specifically Mercedes-Benz, we stroll down, but to my surprise, Rarity doesn’t stop to even look at anything in any of the displays. In fact, I stop her to ask why.
“Darling, I’m here to get inspired, not go on a shopping spree. Besides, just being here with you and taking in both Britain and France is enough to get me filled with plenty of ideas for my next spring line!”
“Glad I could be of help.”
Soon, we return to the Louvre, and after taking a meal break, we head for Notre Dame so I can see the place again. As usual, many a prayer candle adorn the prayer altar, and many are also in prayer here. I respectfully wander the hallways to see their artifacts. I know some of them were removed and protected in the wake of some past events, but it’s amazing to see them out again.
When I see a parishioner enter the confession booth, I wait for Rarity to finish her own walk. Getting pictures of the stained glass windows and the ceiling is about everything we want to see.
As the hottest time of the day approaches, we grab a snack from a local patisserie before we venture back to the car. After firing up and navigating our way out of the Louvre, we jump on the highway to head back home. Eager to avoid traffic, I put my foot down to try and get home before sundown.
When we pull into my driveway, I notice a stereotypical suspicious cargo van parked across the street. The hood is open, so at least if there is a problem, they can’t go anywhere.
I follow Rarity in and have a drink of water before turning on the TV. A few minutes into one of my shows, a knock comes at the door.
In case of emergency, I have a tool of self-defense handy, ready in case of evasive maneuvers as I check the peephole. A woman smiles unusually brightly as I open the door.
« Bonjour, pouvez-vous m’aider? Ma voiture est morte. » (Hi, can you help me? My car is dead.)
« La batterie ou court d’essence? » (Battery or out of gas/petrol?)
« [Je] Ne sais pas. » (Don’t know.)
« Parlez-vous d’autres langues? » (Do you speak other languages?)
« Une autre langue serait plus facile? » “Ξερεις να μιλας ελληνικα?” (Would another language be easier? Do you speak Greek?)
“[Je] Ne parle pas grec.” (I don’t speak Greek.)
“Italiano?”
“Un poco, ma non molto bene.” (A little, but not very well.)
“Wait a minute,” she says in English, “you’re not a Frenchman.”
“Non?” I respond in French.
“No, you’re an American.”
“Is it that obvious?” I say as I step outside and close the door behind me.
“It’s subtler than it actually is. And the way you speak French.”
“Alright. I’ll give you that. Do your companions speak English?”
“We do.” One of them replies as we get to the van.
“Is it turning over or just a click?”
“A series of rapid clicks.”
“Okay. Let me take a look at your engine bay.”
“What are you looking for?” The woman who knocked on the door asks.
“The starter, and to see if the battery is corroded.”
“The starter’s right underneath the flywheel.” A third woman says to me.
“Yeah. Is it new?” I say as I stick my head down to make sure it is the starter.
“We haven’t done anything to this thing since we got it, other than touch it up inside. All the homely touches we need.”
“Okay.” I respond removing my head from the engine bay. “Go ahead and crank it.”
One click and nothing more is all I need.
“Okay, go ahead and release it.”
All three then come to see me at the bonnet.
“Well,” I say as I prop myself up against the grill. “Your battery’s corroded, so it’s grounding into the corrosion. The first thing we can try is cleaning it out with Coca, if that trick does work. Otherwise, we’ll have to get a new battery.”
“Can you do that?”
“I’ve seen it work before. So, are any of you thirsty? I can buy some Coca, and whatever isn’t used to clean your battery, can be drunk.”
“For realzies?”
“Eeyup. Who wants to go with me?”
“I’ll go!”
“I guess I’ll go too.”
“Uh. Fine. I’ll go. It’s not like anyone can steal the thing.”
“Alrighty then. I’ll be right back.”
When I reenter the house, Rarity is fast asleep. So, I quietly grab the keys and head for the garage.
After I back the car out and close the door, I suggest we should push the van to my side of the street. Reluctantly, they agree, so we decide to block the driveway to keep it on a flat surface.
“What’s your name?”
“Max.”
“I’m Sonata!”
“Nice to meet you.”
“I’m Aria. I keep these two in check.”
“Yeah?” I chuckle. “Nice.”
“And I’m Adagio. Adagio Dazzle. I’m the ringleader around here. My sisters are always getting into trouble with their shenanigans. If anything, I keep the other two in check.”
I chuckle at their antics as we roll into a petrol station.
The girls grab a few bottles of coke apiece while I purchase a dozen liters to keep us covered for the next couple days.
As the girls get their things bagged, I pump l’essence. When that finishes, I grab the receipt, we pile back in and return home. Then, we push the van out of my driveway, I park the car inside, and I grab my toolbox and some paper towels.
After I secure the hood to keep it from falling on me, I loosen the battery terminals and grab a can of Coke. I then pour a fair amount over each terminal, wait 3-5 seconds, then scrub vigorously with a brush to remove as much corrosion as possible.
After drying off as much as I can with scraping off rogue bits of corrosion, I reattach the battery terminals and check for tightness. Adagio then turns the key and gets the thing started after a few long seconds of cranking.
“Yes!” I celebrate internally. “Okay, let it run for a few minutes, then you can be on your merry way.”
“Thank you so much!” Sonata says. “Although, I do have a favor to ask you.”
“What would that be?”
“Can you take us to the American Embassy in Paris tomorrow? We have an appointment to interview for work visas.”
“Do you have jobs secured in America?”
“Not yet, but if we can secure our visas, then if it takes a turn for the worse, we can stay and continue searching.”
“Sure. Now, I want to extend an offer to you, but let me pre-qualify that offer with a simple question. Why leave Europe?”
The three of them look at each other before Adagio gives an answer.
“We messed up an opportunity to have lives here. Moving to the US is a fresh start for us.”
“How heartfelt. Well, I think that’s enough for me to ask, “would you like to spend the night here? I understand how tough it can be to park in Paris, and if you’re going to be at the American embassy for a while, then it makes more sense to just get shuttled in.”
“You’re willing to house three strangers you’ve known less than a day? And on top of that, you’ll also be willing to take us into Paris so we don’t have to drive ourselves?” Aria asks.
“And if your visas get approved, I’ll take you to the States too.”
“For realzies?!” Sonata squeaks excitedly.
“Aye.” I respond in Scottish.
“Wow.” Aria responds monotonously.
“How generous of you!” Sonata adds.
“Maybe you human scum aren’t so scummy after all.” Adagio finishes.
“I hope that’s not a stab at the French people. In any case, if anyone has ever wronged you in any way, I would apologize on their behalf. However, I don’t know your story, and thus will not pry. I’m sure you had your trials and tribulations to get to where you are now, and I feel it my obligation to assist you in your next step, since you’re all interested in a fresh start.”
“We are.” Adagio says.
“Well, take what you need and come on in.“ I say as I walk towards the front door.
Rarity stretches and calls me as I step through with our new guests.
“Rarity, we have guests tonight. Meet Adagio, Aria, and Sonata.”
“Bonjour. Je m’appelle Rarity, ou Rareté.” (Hello, my name is Rarity, or Rarity.)
“We speak English.” Adagio replies. “I appreciate it though.”
“Bathrooms are that way, bedrooms right by it are available.” I then add.
“Thank you again Max.” Sonata says as she goes to pick a bedroom.
Once out of earshot, Rarity half-whispers, “Are you sure you can trust them? I’m glad you’re being generous to offer them an extra room for the night, but what if they make off in the middle of the night?”
“I have the number plate and aliases, if they didn’t give me their real names. I know you’re nervous, but they want to find work in America.”
“Okay…”
As each of the girls takes a shower, I make note of their rather hypnotizing singing voices, though I wonder how much the acoustics of a bathroom have on singing in the shower. Now that I think of it, I haven’t heard Rarity sing, but to my untrained ears, Adagio sounds ostensibly like Rarity, if you take my meaning.
As the night sets in, I check to make sure everyone’s comfortable before I pop in and ask when their appointment is.
“It’s at 8 am.” Adagio responds.
“Okay. Since it is Lundi (Monday), we should leave early. It’ll take an hour without traffic, so we should be on the road before 7:00.”
“Okay.”
“Do you mind if I ask you couple of questions about your journey? Just so I can understand where you’re coming from? No pressure.”
“Well, um, we’re from Corfu, in Greece. As of late, we kind of got hit with some hard times. We lost our home and almost everything. Been living out of that van ever since.”
“Wow. I’m really sorry that had to happen to you. Where’d the journey take you next then?”
“After we left Greece, we went through Italy and ended up in Sicily. From there, we continued to trek north and went through Sardinia and Corsica before landing in Nice. We were hoping to get to the UK, but our legal consultant in Athens recommended us to Paris instead.”
“And where does your interest in the United States come into play?”
“No reason in particular.”
“Alright. The goal is to be on the road by 7:00, so please plan accordingly. Bonne nuit.” (Good night.)