So... Remember how I said we would be Barcelona-bound today?
Yeah, that didn't happen.
No, we didn't over sleep and miss the train. We were up bright and early and in plenty of time to catch an Uber to Gare de Lyon. But we didn't make it out of the hotel.
When I went up to the registration desk, the girl looked at me confused. She thought she misunderstood (her English was on par with my French). I repeated we were checking out.
Girl: "What room number?" (read in a French accent)
Me: "Number *** and ***."
Girl: "No madam. We have you checking out tomorrow, oui?"
Me: "........"
Girl: "Ici. Right here." (points to monitor)
Me: (headpalms hard!) "C'est right! I'm so sorry. I guess I'm not leaving."
Girl: ".... Uh, okay?"
Now, picture of you will, me with my backpack strapped on walking over to where Dennis with his backpack and Mom with her (now three) bags and explaining to them that I done goofed.
Here's what likely happened. I had gotten the train vouchers printed the day before. And I kept looking at the date, 06/05/2019 and my mind, knowing we are in May and forgetting that dates in most of civilized countries are written in a most logical day-month-year, I think my brain decided to ignore the very obvious 6 and just go with two 5s. That's my story and I'm sticking to it!
So now we have our hopes of escaping cold, wet Paris dashed. And we now have to unpack (at least some things) just to repack in a few hours. Insult to injury!
Dennis and I were pretty much ready to just go back to bed, which we did. No sense griping about something we can't change. But Mom is definitely not as blasé about travel setbacks as Dennis and I. By 3pm she was clearly not a happy camper. Actually, I took her camping once. She's the poster child for not happy campers. Wilderness adventures are definitely not her jam.
But I happened to strike upon an idea. We have another night in Paris. Can we get tickets to Moulin Rouge? Well, yes, we could. But I gave it a little more thought and decided on the Soirée Plume show at Lido de Paris. I called to verify that our clothing would pass muster. They normally require formal wear - which we didn't pack and, frankly, I don't even own. But they said we would be fine.
Great! Got the tickets and told Mom to get ready. That we were going to a nice restaurant. She grumbled that we could go next door again. I told her Dennis had chosen it. That settled it.
If you've been to a cabaret in Paris, you can skip this part. If you haven't, well...
Lido de Paris was a good 25-minute drive. Not only was it cold but we were driving so far for "just a dinner" and Mom was still less than pleased, downright approaching miffed. We get dropped off and go right into the building, where there's already a line. For a second, I thought Mom would realize something was odd, but VERY fortunately, there's a movie theater that shares the entrance with Lido de Paris. So we blamed the line on that.
We are greeted by tuxedos everywhere. At the reservation desk. At the coat check. At the table. The waiter that brought us to the table asked where we were from. While my MVP Dennis distracted Mom (he's getting quite good at it!) I murmured to the waiter that Mom is from Puerto Rico and this is her very first time in Europe and especially Paris, and that she's never seen a cabaret. He immediately steered us to a table with an EXCELLENT view. We were less than 30 feet from the stage! He even made sure she sat on the side where she would get the best view.
Thank you, waiter guy!
Mom is still oblivious. She's trying to read the menu but the print was too small. At least the English part was. The French part was big enough... But in French. I told her I would choose for her. I also ordered a bottle of sweet wine, since that's the only wine she drinks. When the sommelier brought the wine, I had Mom be the taster. After all, she is very specific (read: "picky" 😊). Tasting done, she pronounced it "very good!" And she pronounced the second glass "good stuff!"
Food came and went. Three courses that were good enough but not the best we'd had. No matter. That's not what we came for.
During the meal, there was an automated "orchestra" playing for a bit, then a couple of guys singing and playing various instruments. Again, they were not the best we'd heard. But that's not what we came for.
Then the lights went down. And when I say "the lights went down" I mean the lights around us LITERALLY went down into these columns. I hope I got pictures of them. I will circle the lights that disappeared. Unfortunately, I'm pretty sure I don't have any after pictures. It doesn't matter. That's not what we came for.
Music begins a light little tune then slowly builds up. A mime comes out on stage and does a cute little skit. Mom is liking it but that's not what we came for.
Music reaches a crescendo. The curtains open. A whole troop of feathered girls makes their way down this beautiful stairwell, heretofore unseen, and begin singing and dancing. THAT'S what we came for!
I couldn't in words do justice to what we saw. And, even if I had pictures (which were not allowed), it still would not do it justice. Some things just have to be experienced.
Three important things I must mention about this evening.
1. That wine we got will be forever known as "Good stuff!" Vintage 2017.
2. It took a second wardrobe change before Mom noticed that some of the girls were topless. I explained to her that it is a normal thing here. She wasn't convinced until I pointed out the number of kids in the audience, with some even seated at the table next to us.
3. I think I broke her! When the show ended, Mom was literally sobbing she loved it so much.
And now, ladies and gentlemen, I have been crowned her favorite daughter!
(Full disclosure: I'm the only daughter. But I'm still claiming faves! 😉)