Look. Let's not kid ourselves. We both know I lost you about mid-way through Paris, Day One--when your eyes started glazing over at about the fifteenth shot of Notre Dame--and you quickly scanned the rest of the post, hoping for photos of dancing girls at the Moulin Rouge.
So as not to disappoint...
And we move on...
Paris - Day Three
...was all about getting to the top of the Eiffel Tower. Ze top of ze tower.
After a very tiny--nay, minuscule--five course breakfast at our hotel, we headed out early in the morning to the Metro. Unlike our usual M.O., wherein we scrounged through our bags for loose change, argued with one another, and held up the line at the ticket machine for a good five minutes--on Day Three, we were prepared with tickets Mr. Lush had already pre-purchased. Il est un merveilleuse mari!
We waltzed into the Metro station, with heads held high, and noses in the air--like real Parisians, and scoffed at ze stoopeed Ahmericahns wis zer leetle fanny packs and zer giant derrieres. Imbeciles! Hok-tuey.
After making our way to the Trocedero, we began heading down toward the Eiffel Tower, only to discover a huge road race--complete with thousands of runners--blocking our way across the bridge.
For a few minutes, we stood watching the giant crowd, stunned. Then, we made a command decision. We would cross. This was no time to head back to the Metro to find an alternate route. This was no time for indecision. It was a time for courage. And complete idiocy. Our mission was to make it to the top. Nothing was going to stop us now. We pushed. We shoved. We elbowed. We gave dirty looks. Then we headed down to the bridge.
It's hard to show how many people were actually standing on that bridge. The excitement was palpable. Electric. I nearly took off sprinting when the crowd surged. I knew I stood a good chance at placing, even in my jeans and Privo clogs. A 20K race is nothing to me. It's like a walk in the park. Mr. Lush had to physically hold me back. I was like a damn race horse--chomping at the bit.
Okay. Maybe it wasn't exactly as I described.
Finally. Finally we made it across. It wasn't pretty. We nearly got swept up in a crush of runners, and lost the children forever. But we prevailed. We made it to the ticket booth. We stood in line. We bought our tickets. Victory was ours.
With a view like this...
I suppose fighting your way through a giant road race, while struggling to hold- on-for-dear-life to your children, was truly worth it. (Can you see the Arc de Triomphe?)
Our last mission in Paris was accomplished.
Later, we headed back to the Gare de L'est, where we caught the train back to Saarbrucken. Our weekend in Paris was over.
Hope you've enjoyed the world's-longest posts and the infinite, unending stream of photos of the Eurolush family trip to Paris. It was fun having you along. I think the only awkward part was when you insisted on sleeping in between Mr. Lush and me on the bed at the hotel. You kept saying it was 'cozy' and 'comfy.'
But I think we both knew it was "creepy."