I was prompted to write this after reading this post on another blog:
As I replied to the author, for a short while I actually DID hate one of the worlds most famous museums, but it was nothing to do with its artistic overload.
Several years ago, as a single man on an overnight flight from Beirut to Paris, I noticed the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. A man *blessed* with my looks doesn’t normally talk to women such as her, but on this occasion she was the air hostess on my side of the plane.
I smiled at her as she offered me a warm towel, she smiled back (as she did to everyone else I noted glumly). I smiled again as she gave me my meal and again she smiled back, with a few words exchanged, nothing of any importance.
Once all was cleared away, I stood up and headed to the back of the plane to have a few beers, as I can’t sleep in cattle class, no matter how hard I try. The lights were dimmed, with only the rear cabin bit illuminated. As luck would have it she was there, I asked for a beer, she handed one over with a smile, and a conversation was struck up. Every 15 minutes or so she did her rounds, then came back and carried on the conversation.
Having established that she was single (she’d also found out that I was) I asked her, without thinking “What would be the most romantic thing a man could ever do for you?” Without hesitation she replied “Take me to the Louvre.”
The conversation continued until she and her team had to start the breakfast shift, so I downed my last dregs, put the can into the bin, looked at her and said “Would you come with me to The Louvre?”
She went red, mumbled something and turned away to start work. I thought I’d been rebuffed (understandable) and went and sat down, feeling slightly awkward. I felt even more awkward when she handed me my breakfast tray, but she also handed over an envelope, saying “here’s the information you asked for Sir.”
Baffled I opened it after she’d passed, it was her name and phone number. Mentally flik flakking down the cabin I put the envelope safely in my bag and ate my breakfast.
Fast forward a couple of days, I called, she answered, we arranged a date to go to the Louvre. She lived in Paris I live out in the sticks, but we arranged to meet in a small café near the museum around 9am.
Just gone 8 I was there, excited but sceptical. She was that pretty I couldn’t actually believe that she was going to be there, but, just before 9, my vision of beauty wafted into the cafe, looked around, saw me, smiled and came to the table. A slightly uncomfortable (for me) French greeting of cheek kissing, (I proffered one too many) but we laughed and sat down, discussing general stuff.
Coffee finished, we walked the few hundred yards to The Louvre.
Where I saw this:
Yes, its closed on Mondays!!!
This post has been linked to http://loumessugo.com/en/blog/entry/all-about-france-2 Have a look for more stories all about France.