Jewish Book: Saving Myself, a Los Angeles Childhood
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A Los Angeles Childhood – French Allure
Friday, 10 June 2011 06:59

I’m on the plane flying from Albuquerque to Charles De Gaulle/Paris. The Sky Magazine, Delta’s in flight rag, sports a photo of Marion Cotillard. It boasts the title of C’est Magnifique! The cover also mentions ‘French Allure’, the enduring influence of French culture. I bow to all of that. This is the first leg of my trip to the City of Light. Here I am taking notes already just 1½ hours into the flight. I head to the back of the plane and my friend John grabs my arm. He’s on his way to a conference in Virginia and tells me he lived in Paris for a year. He mentions that he has met someone on-line and for that I rejoice with him.

The woman across the aisle from me stands to let the woman next to her out and I can’t help but notice that her bra reminds me of Madonna in one of her earlier tours only this is now real life!

To the left of me is a man who has introduced himself and his son at the beginning of the flight. They are on their way to a Yankees game and very excited. They’ll get in at 3:00PM and go right over to the stadium. He listens to hypnotic music with a very strong drumbeat that I can hear even though he has on a headset. His son is playing with something that looks like a cross between a truck and a transformer.

We get in to Atlanta. I take the flight magazine because I feel it will be a useful piece of information. It has a sketch of the new Bohemian Paris. I will take it all in.

I sit next to an 8 year old girl who talks about life with her mother, brother, dog, and somewhere a father. She is on her way to visit her French grandmother.

I talk about my new project with the Queens of France with the man in front of me who is interested. He tells me that St Genevieve is buried in a church next to the Pantheon. I will go there, I tell him and thank him. The lights in the plane dim and for the next two hours I sleep.

Now I’m in my apartment in Paris and ready for a quick visit to the Gardens. Let’s see what I turn up.

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