episode 10

THE TOURIST TRAP:

A short story about a great plan that went miserably wrong abroad.

Let me set the scene.

The year was 2016. It was summertime in beautiful Paris, France. I hated every second of it. 

The heat was unbearable, the crowds were endless, and cold water was harder to come by than completing an iron man. The day was supposed to be a classic tourist day that would last only a few hours and be enjoyable. This was not the case.

On this particular day, my father and I headed to the Louvre museum. If you’re wondering why we’d pick the hottest day of the year to visit the Louvre, so was I.  

Nothing could stop us or make the day bad.

Wrong. 

It wasn’t bad, it was terrible.  

The plan was simple: we were going to see The Mona Lisa, Venus de Milo, and Winged Victory of Samothrace. Our goal was to quickly run through the museum, see what we needed to see and get out. Unfortunately, my dad isn’t the best walker, but he sure thinks he is. The man trips over air, yet somehow crowned himself the Olympic gold medalist in speed walking. He was in his own fantasy land.

I called him Shakes. 

So, Shakes and I and apparently the entire population of the world decided to head to the Louvre that day. 

Those of you training for a marathon or who need a sharp cardiovascular workout should book a trip and walk through this vast museum. The endless staircases, the sheer size of the place, and weaving through thousands of people make the Louvre the perfect training ground for an intense workout. Definitely not the perfect place for Shakes to be. 

The second you walk inside, you realize the Louvre isn’t just a museum, it’s a small city with paintings. To keep tourists from wandering into another country, giant posters of the famous artwork hang throughout the museum with arrows pointing you in the right direction. We spotted the Mona Lisa sign and confidently followed it. 

So far so good… 

After about twenty minutes of walking, which included three different staircases, five left turns, three right turns, and people coughing all over you, we finally made it to where the Mona Lisa was. I had seen a few photos throughout my life online and in books of the Mona Lisa, but today I was finally going to see it in person. It was a surreal experience. The excitement lasted about three seconds once I saw it. For those who haven’t seen it, it didn’t look like the big poster that was hanging when you walked into the museum. 

It’s about as big as a post-it note. 

Not only do you need binoculars to see it, you're also obstructed by the thousands of people standing in your way taking pictures. 

The least people could do was move out of the way so Shakes could see it. 

My excitement had now turned into stress and anxiety. 

However, you couldn’t break Shakes’ spirit! 

He directed me to the next exhibit with confidence and speed. After about five minutes, I told Shakes that I thought we were going the wrong way. Shakes didn’t listen and continued on his path. Typical Shakes!

Five minutes later, we discovered Shakes had somehow invented his own route through the Louvre.

We then traced our steps back and finally made it to the next exhibit, the Venus de Milo. This art piece was definitely bigger than the Mona Lisa. The details were magnificent, truly begging the question of how someone could create such a beautiful piece of art. Then, about five seconds later, you think, 

“Okay, I’ve seen it.” 

It’s funny how you’ll walk miles through a museum to see a masterpiece, only to admire it for a few seconds. 

I didn’t need to stand there and study it. Shakes did. He started giving me every fact he knew about the statue, but I wasn’t listening. I was more concerned with his legs, which looked noticeably less stable than they had earlier. 

Mission two of three was now complete and we were off to see the Winged Victory of Samothrace. What was supposed to be a thirty-minute trip through the Louvre had somehow turned into a two-hour expedition. Every time we followed one sign, the next one seemed to point us in the opposite direction. Asking for directions wasn’t going to help. Everyone else looked just as lost as we did, they were just walking faster. 

I was hoping that the Winged Victory of Samothrace would at least be easy to get to. It wasn’t. The statue sits at the top of what felt like a fifty-flight staircase. By the time we made it to the top, I wasn’t even sure I had the energy to appreciate it. Thousands of people were crowded around taking endless pictures. I’ve never understood taking pictures inside a museum. You came here to see it with your own eyes. If you want a picture, Google has about twelve million of them. Instead of admiring the statue, I spent most of the time accidentally walking through other people’s photos and getting flash-banged every three seconds. 

Now the mission was accomplished. We saw all three masterpieces and burned what was conservatively five thousand calories. It was finally time for lunch. We were meeting my mom and sister at a little café  we’d been looking forward to all morning. Unfortunately, my sister had come down with strep throat and was stuck back at the hotel. 

She was the lucky one that day. 

Shakes and I arrived to meet my mom. This trendy little restaurant featured exactly three customers: Shakes, my mom, and me.

My parents always believed the hostesses deserve far more information than they’re asking for. A normal person would say, “We are going to be three today, our fourth couldn’t make it.” My parents prefer to do the opposite. They like giving the complete backstory. The hostess learned my sister had strep throat, how long she’d been sick for, where she was recovering, what medication she was taking, her date of birth, and her social security number. 

We ate lunch in silence. 

After surviving the Louvre, the endless stairs, the crowds, and Shakes navigating like a man with his eyes closed, I finally got a cab and headed towards my friends. For the first time all day, I wasn’t moving. I was at peace. I couldn’t wait to sit in the air conditioning, light a cigarette, and have about six pints. 

Then I arrived. 

There was no air conditioning. No cold water. The beer was somehow lukewarm, and apparently ashtrays didn’t exist. 

After approximately thirty seconds, my friends looked at each other and unanimously decided this place wasn’t it. 

“Let’s go somewhere else.” 

It was only a forty-five minute walk. 

I came to Paris for beauty and romance. 

Instead, I left dehydrated, walking exactly like Shakes. 

Nobody Asked. Now you know anyway.