I didn’t realized how anxious I’ve been to see my brother and his family until I got here. The room overlooks the street (noisy!)… but it provided the perfect vantage point to watch for Patrick. I hung out the window and peered in every taxi that went by. Nope. Nope. Not them. I finally decided that hanging out the window is silly. So I went to the cafe next door, took a sidewalk table facing the oncoming traffic, drank a beer and continued to peer into every taxi that went by. At least it made me feel like less of a stalker.
I didn’t bring Patrick’s itinerary with me, but I swear they were supposed to get here first. I’d about finished my beer and started to wonder what was going on when Bill called. You might as well go do whatever you want to. What happened? Trouble in the Chunnel! An accident! Terrorists! Now, honestly, if something like that had happened, I don’t think that Bill would have called and said go have some fun. Still, it panicked me a bit. Turns out, Dad left Bill a message relaying a message he’d gotten. The Murphy family was in London. Where they’d lost their passports. All we knew is that they were going to the embassy to try to get new ones and not end up like Tom Hanks living in a terminal.
Given that I’d feared they were hurt, lost passports were a relief. Then I thought about what they were going through and how many tears were being shed on their end. Didn’t make me feel much like going out to have fun.
I did all I could think of to do. I paid for my beer and walked to a museum I figured they weren’t interested in. (le musee d’Orsay)