Passport to Paris

If you don't have any plans this weekend and are looking for an easy, relaxing pick-me-up, go see Midnight in Paris.  I know it's been out for awhile, but I promise you'll find a theater (likely one of those adorable, little indie film ones) that is still showing it.  It's not your typical Woody Allen film (it's rather light and fun), but it still rocks an all-star cast (who doesn't love Rachel McAdams?) as well as gorgeous shots of La Ville-Lumière.

As you might have guessed, my deep-rooted infatuation with Paris contributed significantly to my adoration for this fine film.  Like any two young sisters who grew up watching Sabrina, Moulin Rouge and Sex and the City, Gretters and I regularly daydreamed about visiting the city of romance - the clothes we would flaunt, the crossiants we would savor, the espressos we would sip, the art we would admire, and, of course, the Parisians we would kiss.  

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When our grandfather, whom we fondly call Dickie Boy (and whose nickname will need to be explained in its own blog post altogether), decided to invite us on a special little getaway to go spoil ourselves with luxurious art, history, architecture, food and drink in the city of love, Gretters and I could hardly contain our excitement.  Dickie Boy - who loves all things indulgent and luxurious - had prepaid for six nights at one of Paris' finest hotels.  With him, there was no doubt we'd be eating, drinking, and sleeping in style.  

While I launched into full-on planning / preparation mode for our trip, Gretters sat back and waited for the trip to come to her.  While I was hard at work researching all the best boutiques (with the expert help of Where to Wear), museums, restaurants, bars, coffee shops, and sights so our trip would be thoroughly blueprinted (no activity would be missed!), Gretters sat relaxing by the pool.  "Gretchen, you need to learn how to prepare for a trip!  If you don't get all ready and set beforehand, you will miss out on lots of important things!"

I spent hours making lists of various kinds (because I am totally anal like that) - what clothes I would bring, what shoes I would pack, what books I would read, what sights we would see, which macaroons we would try, which walks we would do - my excitement surrounding the anticipation of the trip was unbounded.

T minus 10 hours to go - I zipped up my suitcase and went through my final what-not-to-forget list:

Electric converter? CHECK!
Guide to Paris?  CHECK!
Airplane reading?  CHECK!
Airplane pillow? CHECK!
Airplane ticket?  CHECK!
Passport?
Passport?
Where is my passport?

In a panic I began to scan my mental image catalog to try and grab hold of where I saw this precious little book last:

Definitely had it when we flew back from Austria after spring break. 
Definitely put it in that little box I kept in my dorm room desk drawer. 
Definitely packed that little box in a bigger box when packing to go home from college for the summer. 
Definitely put that big box in storage in Williamstown, MA.
And given that I was currently in Milwaukee, WI, there was definitely no way I was going to get it in time for my trip.  And given that it was Saturday evening before Memorial Day, there was definitely no way I was getting an emergency passport before Wednesday - two days before we were supposed to fly home.
SHUT the front door.  This is no good.

Oh sweet thing - how I miss you right now!

There I was 9.5 hours before leaving for Paris missing the absolute ONLY thing that I could not leave home without.  With my tail between my legs and the saddest puppy dog face I could muster, I went downstairs to confess my trangression to the fam.   

While I'd love to tell you I learned my lesson AND still got to go to Paris, this blog is about real-life, not the fantasy world of Katherine Claire Krieg.  We canceled the trip, DB lost his prepaid funds on our fabulous hotel, and I am now the permanent butt of any and all passport-related jokes in the family.

I did eventually get to go to Paris (a story to be told in a future post), but I always felt a twinge of sadness that I didn't get to experience it with DB.  Maybe for my 30th? :)

Beautiful picture borrowed from one of my favorite blogs: Oh Happy Day!

Enjoy your weekend, but not before checking to make sure you know exactly where your passport is stored.

xoxo
KK


PS. For a lovely Parisian read, try What French Women Know - guaranteed to give you the tips to feel all sorts of Parisian goodness without needing a passport.