After a laid-back week in Greece, none of us were prepared for the big city life that slapped us in the face when we arrived in Paris.
We may have started the trip traveling light, but that was no longer the case. Now, we hauled a stroller, suitcase, three backpacks, four purses, and one big-ass duffel bag full of our Grecian loot through Charles de Gaulle and onto the Paris Metro for a forty-five minute ride to our hotel.
Having lived like royalty on Crete with each lady enjoying her own bedroom, bathroom, and balcony, our new living quarters felt pinched. Now, we had a double bed, bunk bed, pack 'n play, stroller, suitcase, three backpacks, four purses, one big-ass duffel bag, four women, and a baby shoved into a tiny room just outside Disneyland.
Thankfully, we found some relief from our itty-bitty living space: the hotel bartender poured a stiff drink, and after a terrible night of sleep on night one, we saddled up for Long Islands on night two; we were a tram ride away from Disneyland, a happy place when it's experienced with your favorite ladies and a guy as cute as Desmond; and we spent a day exploring Paris' icons while snacking on baguettes, macaroons, wine, and croque monsieurs.
If you've spent some time traveling, you know that most trips have a low moment, a this-might-be-funny-tomorrow moment. After three quick days in Disneyland and Paris, our return trip to the airport on the Metro turned into our trip's moment.
