So, tonight we leave for Paris. Actually, tonight we leave for New York City, and then on Sunday night we leave for Paris.
Have I even mentioned why I'm going to Paris?
Well, last summer, Tayneshia and I were thinking about where we might go for a vacation, and we found a company with some really economical (i.e. cheap) package deals to different places in Europe. We vacillated between London and Paris, but finally settled on Paris.
Then we got looking at times, and determined that Thanksgiving would be an ideal time to go, really. Tayneshia's family lives in Houston, and since she goes home for Christmas every year, she never goes home for Thanksgiving. As for me, I always go home for Thanksgiving, but this year I decided that I could bear to spend it in Paris, since I'll be with many of my family for Christmas. Since we get a few days off for the holiday anyway, we are able to take the trip without using up too much vacation or getting too far behind on our duties here at work. So, that's the deal.
We'll be spending about a day and a half in New York before we board the plane for Paris. That should be fun. We'll be going to a Broadway show together on Saturday (the new revival of Company-it's in previews now), and then on Sunday I'll be going to church while Tayneshia takes in a production of The Color Purple. Then we'll board the plane that night, sleep the whole way (I'm hopin'!), and wake up in blissful, colorful, romantic Paris.
Yesterday I was a little stressed about the whole trip. This always happens to me. Every time I go on a trip that involves any more than the smallest bit of planning, I tend to get burned out on the whole idea, and by the day prior to my leaving I'm asking myself what possessed me to plan to spend so much money and time on such a frivolous and potentially wasteful venture. I get myself a little bit worked up (it used to be a lot worked up, but I've learned a few helpful anti-worry combatants since the old days) about the things that could go wrong, and almost convince myself that I'm not going to have any fun at all.
But I never get worked up enough to cancel, and then by the time I'm actually leaving (like today), I'm all excited and thrilled and can hardly wait to go. So, I leave, and invariably I have a glorious, magnificent, superb experience, and it banishes all those bad thoughts from my memory.
Until the week before I'm to go on the next trip.
The last time I went to Europe, I was kissed by a street performer in front of about 35 Romans and four other tourists. We'll see if I can top that this trip. (I'm kind of hoping that I don't) Stay tuned.
I don't expect to have Internet access while I'm gone, so this will probably the last entry for a bit.