I hate fog.
Instead of being on a plane pointing towards Rome, I was searching for something to eat among the meager selection of crappy French airport food. Instead of taking a bus back to my comfortable bed at my homestay in warm, sunny Rome, I was sitting in a cold airport in France. And, mid-afternoon, when I was hoping to be showering and then sleeping away the afternoon, I was checking into a sketchy hostel called “Formule 1” in the little airport town of Beauvais. But the clincher came, when instead of eating a delicious homemade four course Italian meal made by my host-mom, I was sitting at “Buffalo Grill,” an American steakhouse chain in France.
Why, you might ask? Because of fog. Fog in France the Monday morning of our departure back to Rome. Don’t get me wrong, I’d enjoyed my 10 day vacation, but I was ready to get away from the cold and stop living out of a suitcase. After our flight was cancelled, however, our vacation was extended another day and a half, despite our opposition.
And since most of us had entirely consumed, if not exceeded, our vacation budgets, we had to look for a cheap hotel accommodation for the evening until we could try to leave France again Tuesday night, on the flight we’d been rebooked for. So, with everyone in high spirits (insert sarcasm here), we waited in the cold for the bus to come (for which the man at the ticket counter told us the wrong time), finally climbed on the bus that was little warmer than the outside temperature, and headed to the place we’d be staying for the next twenty hours: Formule 1.
It looked about as nice as it sounds. We got two rooms for the 7 of us, so each of us paid about 10 Euro for the night. Basically, we got what we paid for. Although we did have private rooms, it was hostel-style with the bathrooms and showers down the hall. Once we arrived, half of us took a nice long nap to sleep away our troubles until dinner. Then we took a little walk in search of food, and found the now infamous Buffalo Grill. Why we went to an American cowboy-decorated restaurant, I’ll never know. But after some hard bread, undercooked meat, an interesting cheese plate, and some mediocre crème brulee, we returned to our welcoming hostel (the man at the front desk said he hoped our next flight was cancelled too so that we’d be around for another day and he could enjoy our company!). We all hurried past him to our rooms, ignoring more creepy French men in a room nearby, and piled into the two beds in my room for a movie before bed. Fortunately, Ali had brought her laptop, and I had brought a portion of my DVD collection, so we could all enjoy Ocean’s 11 before tackling the challenge of having sweet dreams in our uncomfortably cold hostel.
After a solid 11 hours of sleep, we awoke and all too happily departed Formule 1, crossing the street to the Auchan supermarket where we’d spend the next two hours before waiting another 7 hours at the airport. Fortunately, the night air was fog-free, and so we were clear to depart for Rome! After a bus ride from the airport to the train station, and then a taxi, I was safely home at about 1 a.m. And I could finally sleep in my warm bed again!
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