- Hier I became cognizant of how many travel/transportation faux pas there can really be and attempted to document them. Alors. On the train back from Paris to Aix after my flight from Florence (yes I realize that this was an absolutely asinine route ) I sat myself down in my seat, reclined, put in my headphones, selected my bad bitch playlist (three hours and 23 minutes of absolute bliss—timed almost to the minute for the duration of the ride from Roissy-Charles de Gaulle TGV 2 into Aix-en-Provence TGV), took off my headband to prevent the inevitable snob coupled with hangover-induced migraine (why smiling is impossible when wearing Mikimoto and attempting to perfect the yes, I am looking down on you glare) and put on my sleep mask. Apres a fabulous weekend in Florence with two of my favorite people in the world I found myself utterly fatigued and prete to lazily recline as the French countryside rolls by casually devant moi at a measly clip of 200+ mph.
I am really not sure where I’m going with this. Okay.
So I am not really the most casual of travelers. I am, I can admit, quite neurotic. Here we go. Amongst a few things that irk me to no end when I travel:
Individuals with busted ass luggage. Currently can’t decide whether this or outfit repeaters are worse. Leaning towards outfit repeaters but that is a more general and day-to-day offense, and probablement more heinous-- whereas the luggage is more of a concentrated, one time deal. I suppose, however, outfit repeaters could be doing so whilst traveling, and potentially (certainly?) with ugly luggage. Whatever. You have compris.
Individuals who stroll casually inside the airport or train terminals as if they have nowhere to be. As Meryl Streep once said, by all means please move at a glacial pace. If that be the case congratulations but some of us are attempting to jetset, and VITE.
Furthermore. People sleeping in airports. Do you have a home?
People who try and purchase airline tickets at ticket and/or information counters. Do you have a computer?
People who publicly display affection in airports. See “do you have a home” and ajoute “does it have rooms?” Oui? Get one.
People flying airlines that only allow one piece of luggage. Do you have so few belongings that one article of baggage will suffice? TRISTE POUR VOUS. Just kidding y’all know I love budget airlines. I should have specified. My annoyance would be more directed at those who fly airlines that only allow one piece of luggage and act tellement shocked when told to consolidate their shit into said single article, and then proceed to open their horrific-looking suitcases while their belongings tragically spill onto the floor in front of me. No, thanks.
Almost on par with those who attempt to sneak onto trains or buses sans billets. Do you have a fixed income? If not, my condolences, but you should be looking for a job and not creeping like a vagrant around various mediums of transport. Please do not harass the rest of us with your futile attempts to hide your greasy selves from the authorities. There’s a place for people like you, and on le dit prison.
However, these irks absolutely pale in comparison to my disdain for those who travel with children. PARTICULARLY when I decide to pay extra to travel in first class to avoid exactly what happened to me on the train yesterday. Do not think for a second that I am irrational. I am absolutely the queen of rational thought. Rational could be my middle name, but my name is already too fucking long. So I do understand completely that children must be transported from endroit to endroit. In the same way that I realize that hipsters (alternative individuals, particularly males with long hair and strange shoes, if we want to be PC. WHICH I just discovered, in France is Partie Communiste. DONC logic tells me that PC=Politically Correct=Partie Communist=QED a Commie) must also travel. It’s just I wish they didn’t have to.
I am really really really sorry that I’ve built this story up. What basically happened was that a kid was kicking my seat and giggling hysterically. In my cracked out, sleepy state I looked over at the spawn’s mother, teary and bug-eyed out of sheer exhaustion, and she knowingly asked her fetus to stop attacking my seat and hissing like Harry P conversing with a snake. Desole that I just launched into a frenetic and spastic beyond belief tirade against children and travelers, but sometimes trop REALLY is trop. Oh, and trop has lately been very beyond trop. As Miss Langer/Perry would say, gremlins tend to find themselves waking up feeling like plastic bags. Every. Single day. Game that never existed over.
Regardless, I can safely say that Florence is one of the most magnificent places I have ever visited. Shopping was fucking fabulous, I can ALSO safely say that I am now poor grace a Salvatore Ferragamo and the “giftshop” at the museum, aka the reason I will be on a liquid diet for the rest of abroad. Kidding. Except not.
Thus in the spirit of safe statements, I can also safely say that my friends are really the baddest bitches in the bah. I miss being with you all 24/7 beyond words. Don’t EVA. get. pregnant. At the very least I’m glad I got to hang out on Langer's jouch (jean couch for ceux qui sont en retard or just actually retards) in Flo-city ce weekend.
PS Women in France can’t wear shorts. I think, from the angry glares/slow claps that I have recently elicited, that the interdiction on the burka has now been extended to wearing shorts. And bright colors. Triste. I’m pretty sure Lilly doesn’t make THAT in black.
PPS It’s now officially 30 minutes away from being Tuesday, which means it’s go time.
Margarita Michaela
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