We left NYC on 9/5 (otherwise known as the Saturday of Labor Day weekend - so no crowds at JFK) bound for Paris /Charles De Gaulle airport. I’ve requested wheelchair service before, but this was my first trip traveling with a rolling walker. So the wheelchair service got me through security and up to the gate where I switched to the rollator to take me up to the aircraft door where, as promised, they tagged my device and assured me it would be waiting for me at the door of the plane in Paris.
Only it wasn’t. Also MIA were another passenger’s walker and two families’ baby carriage/car seats. The plane emptied, other folks were picked up in wheelchairs while we waited for our gate checked items to arrive. Nothing. Eventually a 2nd staff person checked the plane’s hold herself and told us they were not on the plane and might have been left behind at JFK, but would follow THE NEXT DAY (!?!) on another plane. I was pretty aggravated, but the four parents of wee children were understandably crazed, knowing they would not even be able to take a cab into the city without a car seat /carriage. No actual solutions offered, though they did suggest the parents could check baggage claim to see if the items ended up there. Off they went and we hope they were successful since we didn’t see them again.
So that left LInda, me and a Delta staff person whose English was patchy. By then the wheelchair pushers had disappeared so I had a chair with no pusher and still no rollator. Distressing enough, but since there was no one with “permission” to push the wheelchair beyond the exit door of the ramp, I was also not allowed to leave that area. As Linda has pointed out, “the French are big on rules, but not so solution oriented”. 45 minutes later, I was begging to be allowed to at least use the rest room. But in a classic Catch 22, I wasn’t allowed to reenter the plane to use the rest room there, nor was I allowed to go beyond the locked door to the main part of the airport without the officially designated pusher. Not permitted, no other solution offered. Finally, after going around in circles some more, I summoned enough of my wobbly French to ask if we were being held prisoner?
In today’s world, this travel snafu is nothing compared to what many are going through at airports, but it came as a great relief when finally a more senior official showed up and took us via a tiny staff elevator, onto the runway tarmac where there was a transport van with permission to get us to border control (and les toilettes) as well as a new pusher who told us he’d been waiting for us for some time. Not exactly the kind of service for disabled travelers we had been promised. He told us (truthfully or not) that at CDG, they never have your gate checked items at the door of the plane and that they are always taken to baggage claim. In any case, we finally located the rollator and were allowed to go. I have to admit, every single person was perfectly pleasant; just not really helpful until we’d been round and round the same ground with no new thoughts being introduced.
Anyway, we got into Paris and arrived at the Residence des Arts, a teeny hotel on a quiet side street just a few blocks from the Seine. It’s in a perfect neighborhood, surrounded by restaurants, near transport, with helpful staff and everything we really need. The entrance is easy to miss - almost feels like you should knock on the door and give a password.
The room is likewise very small (we have to signal our intentions to pass each other) , but has all the necessities - a fairly modern bathroom, air-conditioning (much appreciated during France’s current heat wave) and staff who are pleasant AND helpful. So a winner overall.
We napped for a while and then decided a good low-energy activity would be to visit Notre Dame for Sunday evening Vespers, it was a short walk and gave us a chance to check out the ongoing repairs. The first thing that struck us was how clean it is is now -we had no idea the stone underneath was more golden than gray. The inside too is much warmer now after the cleaning
The vespers service was interesting and unexpectedly modern with a priest, an acolyte of some kind, and a female canter with a lovely voice. I was surprised how involved the congregation was, joining in call and response singing throughout the service. Very different from any time in my experience of Catholic cathedrals.
Afterwards we walked back along the Seine, peeked into Shakespeare and Co, which had a line out the door, and grabbed a quick dinner at a touristy looking Turkish place with unexpectedly good food That was enough adventure for one day so we rolled into our beds by 8:30