Europe: The Final Countdown
In three weeks, we board a Embraer E175, which is apparently an airplane and not a coffee grinder, and fly to JFK. We’ll fill a few hours dining, lounging, and slouching across chairs designed for discomfort. Just before our nerves snap from ennui, we’ll file onto an Airbus A330-300, which is precisely what it sounds like, with 286 other travelers. Next stop? Gay Paree.
We’ve been planning this trip for over a year. None of us have ever been to Europe, and we’re hoping not to perpetuate the Ugly American stereotype. We’ve signed up for Babbel, bought and read shelves from Rick Steves, and ordered adapters from Apple for our phones. We’ve learned not to wear shorts in cathedrals or shirts with logos. My wife even ordered me some scarves, as if a ribbon snaked under my chin would prevent me from ordering a blank vine with poison for dinner. I told my French coworker that I’d be wearing a beret, and he snorted and said I’d be the only one. I guess I’ll have to resort to toting a baguette everywhere to blend in.
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