Warning: The Last Team To Check In May Be Eliminated

Bonjour Paris! Our flights could not have been better. Sitting in the red carpet lounge really put Rosemarie at ease and our Economy Plus seats on United were stellar. Thanks to seatguru.com, I chose seats with even more space beyond the additional inches. On the connecting flight to Paris, we were behind the crew and I was able to stretch my legs out without even touching the row in front of me. If one can't fly business class, then seat 21J on a 777 is the best available option.

With our individual video screens, the flight couldn't have been more fun, although I told my mother to get at least a few hours sleep. Despite saying she did, I know she fibbed, while I popped two dolls and managed to get four hours shut-eye. With an early arrival into CDG, our adventure to the hotel began.

Maybe it was because I auditioned for The Amazing Race and didn't get on that I decided to take the train to the hotel. By the time I realized that taking the Paris subway in the morning rush hour was probably not a great idea, it was too late to turn back. There we were being squished by Parisian commuters of all shapes and sizes. And never let it be said that the French are rude. There wasn't one person who did not offer to help us. And when Rosemarie was faced with climbing out of the bowels of the Paris subway, two people offered us a hand in carrying our bags.

As we emerged from the subway, we were still faced with the prospect of finding our hotel. I knew it was by the Pompidou Center, but finding the blue abstract building proved to be an entirely different story. Once again, a friendly Parisian came to our rescue.

"Pardon," I asked. "Le Pompidou?" Perhaps it was because I butchered the name of the museum that our helper switched to English and pointed the way. Alas, finding the center did not lead us to our hotel and once again, I felt like a team that had lost its way once again. Inquiring in a store to no avail, we encountered yet another friendly face on the street who guided us to our destination.

Since our room would not be ready until 3, we dropped our bags off and headed out to explore the city, but first, we had to erase the memory and taste of the United "dinner and breakfast snack." Wandering into a cafe in the Marais, Rosemarie was faced with her first European coffee. To say that she enjoyed it is to say I enjoy eating a mushroom laden pizza with anchovies. Despite the sugar and the added milk, she relinquished the glorious nectar to me and I promised to find her an American coffee even if it meant going to Starbucks or God Forbid, McDonald's.

After eating the most delicious omelet and side of toast with butter and jam, we set out like Hansel and Gretel, substituting the bread crumbs for the list of Metro stations we passed on the way. Our first stop led us to the home of Quasimodo, where Rosemarie was amazed at the sheer size of the cathedral and its stained glass masterpieces. Of course, just because we are in Paris, doesn't mean the homeless and beggars are nowhere in sight. It took only one for us to shake our heads when asked if we spoke English. Problem solved for the entire day.

And then, as if we were fully rested from a 12-hour pit stop, we followed the River Seine all the way to the Eiffel Tower for our 2 p.m. entry.Walking with her arm protectively in mine, it reminded me of being five years old and staying close to her protective wing for my first day of kindergarten. Along the way, we pretended to be non-English speaking travelers while avoiding the bikers, joggers and couples all using the picturesque scene to make their own memories.

Seeing her face when Paris' famous landmark came into view was like watching a child on his first Christmas. The view from the second level was breathtaking and despite wanting to see if she could make it to the top tier, the line for the tiny lift wrapped around the entire mid level and we decided to call it an afternoon and finally check into our hotel. Being well versed by now in the Paris subway, we easily made our way back to find our luggage was already in our room.

As far as European hotel rooms go, ours is by far one of the largest I have ever been in. There's plenty of room in the bathroom for all my product, and those of you who know me well, know that I like to spread out in every room.

With a quiet few hours ahead of us before dinner, we're enjoying some French serenades courtesy of my ipod. We'll ask for a dinner recommendation and then as luck would have it, one of my favorite nightspots is ever so close. And for those of you who know me well, you know far too much on that already.

Paris Day One

Excuse Me Sir, Is This Your Bag?

Good thing I bought the Red Carpet passes, because just as I predicted, we left the house early. After a stop at Aunt Lil's to drop off some scratch tickets, we got to Logan without a problem. My mother was amazed at the self-check in kiosks and a bundle of nerves walking down to the TSA agent who scanned our passports. Note to travelers, TSA agents do not smile - they do their job and then dismiss you.

Going through security, I first thought I should let Rosemarie go through before me - and I was relieved to see that there were no full body scanners in sight. On second consideration, I decided to walk through the x-ray first and looked back to see my mother waiting like an obedient child at the crosswalk.

Her bags went through without a problem and then I heard it.

"Excuse me, sir, is this your bag?"

Thankfully, Rosemaire was too busy putting on her shoes to notice I was having my bag examined. It seems that this seasoned traveler should have taken his 3oz bottles and placed them outside the suitcase. After a quick rescan, we were on our way, although the look on my mother's face was priceless.

Now, we're sitting comfortably in the United Red Carpet lounge and she's enjoying the quiet atmosphere. She's reading her complementary USA Today, munching on crackers and even answering her emails. Something tells me she's going to get used to traveling like this.

Au Revoir Boston

This morning, I heard Rosemarie up and about at 6 a.m. while I rolled over and got another hour of sleep. Even on vacation, I'm awake early. Spending time in the house I grew up in and sleeping in my old room is like an out of body experience. Did I really spend 20 years sharing this little room with my brother and worst of all, did we all actually share ONE bathroom? My mom is visibly nervous about the long day ahead and she's already in the shower. She knows I despise using the shower last, but the poor thing needs to stay busy, so I'm sitting around with my father who's watching me type. Maybe before the morning is through we'll say a few words to each other.

Perhaps, with my mom being up early, she'll konk out the second the flight takes off. One can only hope.

Flight Day

Passes Printed

It's been a full day of flight prep. My cousin, Karen was like a travel angel from above as she stopped by our Aunt Lil's in the middle of our breakfast feast to drop off a fabulous, state-of-the-art, modern piece of luggage.

"It's so big, I have more room for stuff," my mother said before I immediately shut down that path of packing.

Checking in online, I once again found United putting us in group 3 boarding and that is just unacceptable, so it was back to buying front-of-the-line boarding so we're in group 1. That way, Rosemarie can get on and relax because trust me, she's a bundle of nerves and she's still on the ground. But maybe that's because my father is moving about the house like a garden gnome poking his head up when you least expect it.

That's Your Luggage?

Well, it's a good thing I came into town a few days early, as I just discovered my mother's luggage situation. After a day full of Easter feasts at my cousins' in Marblehead, we arrived back to Medford where I saw what Rosemarie has planned to use as a checked item.

"This is your luggage?" I exclamined examining the object as if I had just unearthed a jurassic find deep in the La Brea Tar Pits.

"What's wrong with that, it was Aunt Lil's."

Now, keep in mind, my Aunt Lil is 92 years old and has not been on a plane or packed a suitcase since she flew to Las Vegas with her husband in 1970.

"We need to get you something fast," I said, reaching for the phone and calling my cousin Donna to inquire about the whereabouts of her luggage.

"I'd love to loan you them," she answered, "But they're all down in my house on Cape Cod."

After a few late night phone calls, we may have one from my other cousin, Karen. (It's good to be Italian, there is an abundance of relatives). Tomorrow, she'll drop off what she has and if it's not large enough, then it's off to Target to get my mom a decent suitcase with wheels.

All this and I'm teaching my mother how to use her new DVR. I'm for sure biting off a lot more than I can chew tonight, but I have tons of energy due to the obscene amout of food I have consumed today. So, it's a full day tomorrow, and I mean that in more ways than one as we need to make a breakfast visit to Aunt Lil. Unlike her luggage, her food is a welcome sight.

Worth the Price of Admission

There's nothing like starting your day the right way. The price of the premier line was well worth it, as this morning, the line to get through security at LAX was quite lengthy. And, what the hell, I decided to go to the Red Carpet Club as well. This vacation has been long in the planning stages and I want to savour every slice of it.

Rosemarie is up and set to track the flight, which leads me to believe that she'll be disappointed she can't track the flight we're on to Paris. Then again, they do have those little tracking screens, so I'll be sure to switch her attention to that to keep her entertained.

I can smell the coffee. I think it's time to enjoy all the benefits (no matter how small) miles can buy you.

Feels like Christmas

At 1 p.m. today, I am officially on vacation. I've been planning this trip for so long, it almost doesn't seem real, and there's a little piece of me that feels like it's Christmas Eve. I've got the latest Jackie Collins trash to keep me entertained on my cross-country flight and maybe, just maybe, somebody cute will sit next to me.

Ever the joyful service providers, United had me boarding my morning flight to Boston in group 4. Now, I despise boarding in that group number and since my friend Wayne will be nowhere in sight to get me in the priority line, I decided to purchase early boarding from the friendly skies. Fighting the amateurs as they hoard the overhead bin space is not high on my list of morning activities.

It seems that on United, if you are willing to grease the palms of the gatekeeper, you can buy VIP treatment. I'm not complaining. I'm no amateur flier, I'm just short a few hundred thousand miles. I draw the line at paying for their food, though. No amount of cash is worth that.