La Retour
Yesterday evening Janet's colleagues assembled for a drink to look me over. I can now put faces to the names she's been using for the last month. For the most part they all seem switched-on, young and friendly, maybe even a little more normal than I'd somehow expected to be these best-and-brightest who have been assembled to guide the economic future of the globe. The exception is the tweedy, mustachioed Australian lifer, Grant, who - while I'm sure is not misplaced amongst the other bright lights - would somehow look more at home at the bar of the Bombay Sheraton than in a Paris café.
Now back to the melée at Charles de Gaulle, where the concourses are packed with vacationers tripping up the nimble business travellers. Air Canada neglects to specify the teminal on my itinerary, so I take a shot, and get close. A short trek and I'm lined up to check in. Thus ends, mourning the loss of my Aeroplan Elite privileges, this first chapter of Nos Aventures Français.
posted 9.8.05
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