So, you see the dilemma.
When a plane takes you to Paris, you do what the youngest wants to do.
and maybe you have some fun with the craZy cab ride and the jet lag setting in...
and you definitely shop, and eat, and admire
and you laugh at the old man breakdancing in the blue tracksuit for a few euro.. and the naked statues, because you're punchy and you're American
and then you try to relive a bit of your youth by camping out at the airport for 5 hours until the connecting flight is ready to board- but you remember you're 47, not 27, and instead, you grab a very expensive room at the Sheraton connected to the hotel and settle into a clean, warm bed for 4 hours.
before you look out your teeny plane window to see this: