I am not a line waiter. I am a line hater. My maximum patience-o-meter doesn’t really allow for a lot of line waiting because I need to save every ounce of patience I have for dealing with my two kids. That takes a lot and therefore, I have no patience for lines.
When Tim told me that he and the boys were going to Paris for the day to go to the top of Notre Dame, my mind immediately went back to the last time I was at Notre Dame and saw the giant line snaking around the building for this exact event (which is a different line than getting into the cathedral). Also, given that I’d used up my line-waiting annual allotment at “free museum day” a couple of weeks ago, I figured that I would take a pass on this line waiting bonanza. But……………………then I realized I would miss the view. There is only one thing that I hate more than lines and that is the feeling that I missed out on something cool. So I sucked up all my remaining patience and joined them for their Paris excursion.
We got there about 20 minutes before the opening and there was already a line snaking down the side of the building. I could feel my desire to wait in this line plummeting. But the allure of the view kept me going – barely.
As you may have realized from previous posts, the French don’t know how to wait in lines. The good thing was that most of the people in the line were not French and therefore had a better understanding of line etiquette, however I was taking no chances and I stepped up my Frenchified anti-line-cutting moves. That meant gluing myself on to the back of the person in front of me. I think he was a bit scared by my proximity to him, since he kept checking his pockets to make sure his cell phone was still there.
Finally, after about 1.5 hours, we made it in! The walk up the tower was gruelling, with over 400 tiny steps to the top. Once we got there, it was worth every second of line waiting. In fact, it was worth every nano-second.
I busted out my camera, to take some outstanding photos of the gargoyles and the Eiffel Tower, only to find that my batteries were dead. I then put in the back-up batteries, and guess what? They were dead too. I think it was my cosmic payback for being a line-hater outside of a holy place, since I had at least 1.5 hours to check my camera and buy new batteries at any number of shops around Notre Dame.
At least I had my iPhone and my memory.