The Bowels of Charles DeGaulle

The title refers, of course, to the airport, not to the guy after whom the airport is named.

We were headed to terminal one. And that sentence reminds me of these lines from ELO's "Here Is The News": 
"Ten Eurotechnicians were today sentenced
By the justice computer to be banished for life
To the prison satellite Penal One..."

(The "one" is repeated two more times, as can be heard here.)

Like two hobbits returning a cursed ring, we entered the dark recesses of the terminal--but without the elven cloaks and glowing sword. I saw a sign that said something about the red zone rental car return, and the green zone car return. Naturally, I had no idea which zone I needed to chose. Why was this decision suddenly being thrust upon me? Who were they to insist that I chose a zone? Could I chose to be zone neutral, or elect to be fluid in zone? Apparently not. Sometimes choices are binary. 

I made a command decision. I can't remember now which zone I chose; I can't remember what factors I used to reach the decision. Like many of life's decisions, it was based upon incomplete information, a quick assessment of facts and the inferences to be reasonably drawn therefrom, previous life experience, common sense, and that nebulous je ne sais quoi sometimes called intuition, or gut instinct. Like many of those other decisions in life, I wouldn't know immediately if my decision had been correct.

I backed the car into a tight parking spot. I congratulated myself on an excellent parking job, and got out to go find the desk. Before I got more than a few steps, a man told me that I couldn't park there. That was the parking area for X brand rental cars. The Europcar return area was deeper within the terminal. Back in the car. 

I had chosen the correct zone, I had just parked in the wrong area. We found the Europcar area and parked. There was a young woman dealing with four older Americans (who apparently spoke no French) and their car load of stuff. We waited until she finished with them. Then I approached her, asking in French if she was the person to whom we needed to speak about the return of the car. She said that she was, and directed me to move the car (again) to her location. I did. She inspected the car and pronounced it free of damage...even ignoring the pre-existing damage marked on the rental agreement from the Europcar Compiegne branch. It was quick and painless, except for that whole trying to find the right zone and parking place. 

We took the shuttle (the same one or two car train we had taken from the airport to the train station when we had arrived) from the terminal to our hotel. We didn't know it at the time, but we were headed for the worst meal of our entire stay.

Next time: Hamburger surprise