It’s 2am and I am writing this on my iPhone as I lie in bed with only my phone illuminating my emotionally and physically exhausted face. I just missed my flight out of Paris to Florence because I misread the time on my itinerary…so here I am writing about my experience as an American in Europe. The irony is so strong, and I am so weak that I can’t resist writing it into my introduction. Why is it that Europeans insist on writing 9:40pm as 21:40? Is it some sort of litmus test to weed out the inferior Americans that cannot convert the time when in a rush? Is it somehow more efficient? I believe I’ve reached my quota for rhetorical questions in a single paragraph so, I’ll stop?
Despite my environment changing drastically since I was back home in Los Angeles, I still have my problems I have back home. I didn’t realize I had room in my luggage to pack the problems – luckily they are compact and go with nearly everything, like black. I’m still an indecisive perfectionist that procrastinates despite numerous …show more content…
On the way into the city, I was able to see the sunset over the French countryside. I was so overwhelmed by the warm glow of orange and pink brush strokes in the sky that I did not realize how close we were to a huge city. A few women across the aisle on the bus started gasping and pointing – I turned my head to the left and, in the distance, was the Eiffel Tower sparkling at exactly 10pm. My first view of the Eiffel Tower. Soon, I was on the metro to Megan’s apartment. I stood out front, rang the doorbell, and she popped her head out of her 4th-floor apartment window and yelled, “Alfred!” It was a dream just getting to Paris, but seeing her grounded me. Suddenly, it was