I had been on a plane all night and didn't sleep a wink, as usual. I had been slightly worried about my short one hour layover in Paris, but we were early. No problem, heck I'd even have time to change my clothes and reboot my brain that it was a new day. I passed on the airline coffee, knowing full well that I had a cappuccino in Padova with my name on it. Did I mention that it was 6am?
We land and I begin my exodus down a long hallway, some stairs and onto the moving walkway. Just follow the signs for 2F, I thought, no big deal....I've got an hour and a half. And then, I round the corner to complete and utter chaos. It looks like there might have been lines to go through customs an hour or two ago, but they were long gone now. There was no one to tell you what to do, just a few signs that made no sense in a mass crowd. My flight is before 8:20am, I should listen to that sign and head to the left, but where is left? I pause for a moment, my gut instinct to turn around and find another way ignored. What do I do? Do I push my way through the crowds of people like the obnoxious British man did to my right? Do I stand and wait? I search the crowd and everyone's face has the same expression. WTF. They're doing the same, searching the crowd for someone who might speak their language or carry the same color-coded passport to follow. (We're all lemmings in that way, aren't we?) Order was nowhere in sight, so I migrated myself to the left near a line marker and slowly got in line. Off in the distance I could read that every agent was marked "All Passports." It didn't matter what line I got in, just that I got to someone who let me past the gates and hopefully put another stamp in my passport.
