Stuck in Paris

It sounds pretty glamorous, right?  I mean, if "Stuck in Paris" was the title of a book or a movie, you'd expect that some incredibly attractive Frenchman would sweep the stuck heroine of the story off her feet and they'd spend the next couple of days seeing everything there was to see in Paris and sitting in bistros.  But, as it turns out, attractive Frenchman aren't all that interested in sweeping girls who have been sleeping on the airport floor while wearing a skirt and Chacos and who haven't bathed in a few days off their feet.  Here's what happened.

Upon arriving at the Athens airport at 4:45 am, I found out that my 7 am flight had been delayed until 2:10 pm.  This usually wouldn't be THAT big of a deal.  But.  In order to save a few hundred dollars, I booked my flights from here to Paris and from Paris to Athens completely separately.  So, the airline getting me from Athens to Madrid to Paris would only take care of me as far as Paris.  But because of the 7 hour delay, they had to put me on a different flight from Madrid to Paris...which of course made me miss my next flight by a couple of hours.  

So I get in to Paris at about 10 pm and immediately go to information to find out where the ticket counter is for my next airline.  I walk to the next terminal to find all ticket counters closed.  The lady at that terminal's information counter told me that they wouldn't open back up until 6 am the next morning.  She then pretty much made me feel like an idiot for not having a paper from the original airline stating that my flight was 7 hours delayed, even though when I asked what I needed to do and what they could do for me the answer was nothing.  At this point I've realized that I'm going to be spending the night in the airport.  Before heading to the area where people are allowed to stay during the night, I took a detour to the bathroom for a little cry (which I never do...seriously) then headed out to find somewhere to sit. All of the chairs had arms on them, so there wasn't really any way to do anything but sit straight up in them.  At one point I tried laying on the ground with my suitcase as a pillow.  It was FREEZING, so I dug a jacket and a scarf out of my suitcase.  I still couldn't fall asleep, but I just laid there anyway.  

The next morning I went to the ticket counter at 6 am.  The man there told me that my ticket was not "changeable" so I'd have to buy a completely new ticket home, but since the other airline's flight had been delayed for that long of a time, they were REQUIRED to do something to help me.  So I walked back to the other terminal.  There, the at-fault-airline's counter lady told me that I needed to fill out a complaint form then go buy a new ticket from the other airline's counter, then bring the receipt and the complaint form back...and the cost of the new ticket should be reimbursed.  I wanted more of a guarantee, but I just had to get home somehow.  At this point my feet are literally bleeding and so swollen that I can't wear all the straps of my Chacos (remember that last night of walking all over Athens in strappy sandals?), so I took the shuttle.  I was the only one on it waiting for it to leave when a man got on who turned out to be FROM MALI and who spoke SUNNY!!!  That was a little bright spot in my day.  So I bought a new ticket home (with money I had not planned on spending) and took the receipt and my complaint form back to the other terminal again.  The next available flight home wasn't until 1 pm...the following day.  So upon realizing that I would be spending one entire day, another entire night, and half of another day in the airport, I started trying to talk both airlines into paying for a place for me to stay...nobody would.  (Here's where there was another detour to the bathroom for a little cry)

Now, I know what you're thinking...you were in Paris for 2 days and never left the airport?  That is correct.  Because I didn't want to spend one more euro than I had to, plus I was by myself, plus I was exhausted and afraid I'd get lost, plus my feet were bleeding.  But mostly the money thing.  So I settled in to a routine of wandering the terminal, filling up my Nalgene in the bathroom, and sitting at the McDonald's (which had free wifi AND tables with plugs to charge things).  By now I was so tired (remember...no sleep on the ferry...then a 3-hour nap...then no sleep the night before I left...then the night at the airport) that I would fall asleep sitting straight up and wake up to find myself facing the person sitting next to me with my mouth wide open...and maybe a little drool.  This happened more than a couple of times.

So yeah...no Frenchmen sweeping me off my feet.