Respond So Very Promptly

We land.

And that is where the predictability ends.

I have been to Paris. Twice. So what if it was with two different men I can no longer stand. It was still Paris. Fabulous food. Architecture and gardens of unspeakable beauty. OMG shopping. Unrivaled collections of art. Did I mention the food? And it is Parisian. The most mundane things- bar tenders, taxis, delis, intersections. All fabulously, exquisitely Parisian.

Kate has been to Paris and I would imagine Priscilla, too. But I don't think Joy has been, and I am not sure about Jackie or any of the others. This could be a problem.

The first timers should absolutely visit the Louvre. But it is quite a commitment of time. And I've been through it twice. So do we split up or all visit together when the togetherness is what makes this trip so extraordinarily fun? Sure Kate and Priscillla and I could go find something fabulous to do while the others gasp at the Mona Lisa and walk into other patrons gawking at the painted ceilings. But then they would miss out on the undoubtedly fun thing we did while they were doing that.

Of course we'd wander down the Champs Élysées and the fashion district and shop together. And drink coffee and nibble pastry and sip wine and chat with bartenders and shop keepers and taxi drivers all over creation. And we'd stop in to tour Notre Dame together and have to leave abruptly because while we are in a meditation chapel where speaking is prohibited, Kate will fart, and when she realizes that the evidence will not be contained by the underside of the seat she's kneeling in front of, blames it on the escargot and cheese. And we will all realize that "Kate is farting again" (we should have t-shirts printed) and we will begin to giggle. And we will get shushed (which sounds the same in French) and realize we need to leave at once, and leave the other faithful to remain sitting in Kate's pew, so to speak.

Arizona, our standby alternative plan, is beautiful and relaxing and filled with familiar faces and places, but the possibilities in Paris are endless and exciting. And not just because of the language barrier, which makes everything interesting (even Tennessee, sometimes).

I am probably the only one of us who took French. Took it for 6 years.

You'd never guess.

My pronunciation is still, so far as I know, impeccable. The problem is, I only know a handful of words and phrases. And while most of them are very useful and versatile like "I hit my cat with the law mower" and "That baby is ugly," they won't really help us much as a pack of women on the loose in a foreign country. I could probably figure out how to ask the concierge at the Musee D'Orsay where the ladies' lavatory is, but what good would it do if I couldn't understand her directions? I'd be the Ugly American, holding my crotch racing frantically around the exhibits looking for a door with a stick figure wearing a dress on it.

But these are the stories that make Rock Star Vacations with the Girls worth taking. The threads that weave the tapestry of rich embroidered hue that Carole King was so fond of singing about.

I am so excited, I may begin packing today.