"No, I love the airport... with sarcasm."

This was written 6/29/07, after my amazing travel day...

I hate thinking about all the horrible choices I've made. "What if?" I live like this. Today was no exception. I left Paris for London today, and I thought this would be my easiest day of travel. Wrong. Let me just give you a run down of my day.

- Woke up at 5:30am.
- Left hostel at 6am.
- Arrived at the train station, headed for Charles de Gaulle Airport, at around 6:30am.
- Found myself on an out-of-service train bound for nowhere and was forced to walk around Gare du Nord in search of the alternative train. Did not leave train station until 7:20am.
- PERK #1: A very cute boy (and young!), who was traveling with his father and brother, asked me for help whie at the train station. They actually ended up helping me. I might still be at the train station if it were not for them. More on him/this later.
- Arrived, crazy and frazzled, to CDG Airport and my terminal at 8:23am.
- Boarding for my flight -- scheduled to leave at 8:45am -- had closed at 8:05am. I was late and missed my flight.
- Had to get onto another flight -- which wasn't scheduled to depart until 6pm -- and, having no other choice, had to pay 54 EURO (on top of the 87 EURO I already paid for the flight I missed). The lady informed me that the 2pm flight was full, but that I could check back just before boarding closed to see if I could get on it.
- PERK #2: While waiting, I finished Watch Me Disappear, the 2nd book of required reading for my Creative Writing class here. I was entertained, as much as one can be at the airport.
- PERK #3: I got on the 2pm flight.
- BUT, my fucking suitcase was 6 kilos too much. I was prepared to pay a fee, so I didn't worry about getting anything out and sticking it my side bag. BIG mistake: the extra weight cost me another 55 EURO and by then it was too late to take things out. I hate EasyJet.
- Made it to London okay, though close to keeling over, but then walked around aimlessly in search of my hostel, the roads going every which way and construction causing diversions and detours everywhere. had to hail a cabbie; a fantastically spent 4 pounds to take me 2 blocks in the right direction.

No I'm on my bed. I should go out into London, but I'm not. I might go grab food. I was supposed to be here at around 11am, and would have been happy to make a day out of walking around central London by my lonesome, but have only checked in at 6:30pm. My day was wasted, but at least I finished my book.

Okay. Moving on: The boy I met today: His name was Stefan. He was tall, lean, very tan, amazing features. I could tell he was particularly young because, well, he had braces. In all honesty, he could easily have been 17 or 18. I know. I'm a cradle-robber. Normally that would bother me, and weird me in in crazy ways, but i just didn't seem to really register with me that I should care. So I didn't.

He and his family were on their way to Bulgaria -- they were from the US (I think, or rather, I assumed), and are of (I assume) Bulgarian decent. He was beautiful. Seriously. And beautiful in a way that I find beautiful: sweet, friendly, gentle, a little mysterious, flawless bone structure, and he just doesn't quite realize it about himself. I couldn't stop staring, and he was very, very nice to me. Friendly and flirty, but not in a weird way, just in a way that he seemed to be extremely inclusive of me while we were searching for our train together.

We didn't talk on the train; too many people got between us and it was kind of mayhem. The entire time I struggled with whether or not I should give him my e-mail once we got off the train (I didn't have a cell phone number, unfortunately). All I knew what that I would be sad if I never saw him again. I mean, I knew him for maybe an hour! What is that?! But I couldn't stop thinking that I had to do something. So I wrote down my e-mail on a slip of paper and promised myself that I would give it to him.

When we arrived at the airport, we got separated in the crowd -- he called to me and (I'm not kidding -- with a sad look like he had been thinking the same thing as me on the train) said "I gues this is where we split. Have a good flight... Hopefully you make it." And that was it. I couldn't get to him to give him my e-mail. This was huge for me, 'cause I never do things like that. I kept asking myself, "What have you got to lose?" I knew I'd regret not giving it to him, and I was right: I do. I don't think I'll ever really stop wondering "What if?"

My mission: I'm going to find him. I don't know how. MySpace, maybe. Hm. It's possible, though not likely. But the internet has served my crazy stalker skills well. I'm determined. And those of you who have seen me on my Missions (I don't know if I've had one since being in college), well, you know I don't give up.

Man. Fuck this day.