As customary, I scattered sleep before morning because of my early flight. I woke and hunched over my computer to write the first sentence, which echoed through my brain and made transcription a condition of sleep. Doolies still sleeps, her warm form next to mine, her back turned to conceal the computer’s light. My silent typing wakes her. There’s not much left of Paris except popped ears at thirty-thousand feet and stressed backs.

We’ve flown a few hours from Charles de Gaulle airport to LAX. I’ve not slept yet, but seeing as it’s only around 5am Seattle time, I’m preparing for a nap to aid my temporal transformation.

Continuing my hourly detail, I slept a few hours and now I’m fidgety. Four hours plus coins remain, with another three tacked on the end to deliver me to Seattle.

I struggle in my seat, alternately looking for distractions and permissions. I devoured the Atlantic monthly, The New Yorker, and The Economist, and my current book, Austerlitz, is not holding my interest. I jump from moments of tiredness to specks of sleep. A French monster screams. Time taunts me and Doolies sleeps unfazed. A movie flickers on the TVs, but it holds little entertainment. Orange pillows and blankets decorate the plane.

And finally, a few words to sum up my experiences on the long flight home.

This trip was wonderful. Doolies had mentioned (repeatedly) her desire to visit France. Like most things involving long-distance travel, I deferred. Will and Cecelia thought up the idea for this trip, and asked me months ago if we wanted to join them. While their 14-day itinerary to London, Amsterdam, and Paris was too much for me (and didn’t fit in Doolies’s “vacation” schedule), the last leg to Paris was perfect, satisfying Doolies’s Paris dreams and providing me an impetus to travel. Erik and Gloria signed on to the full package, and we booked the trip. I have to give huge thanks to Will for pressing forward with the idea. We had a great time, and I’m not sure when (or if) we would have made it to Paris without his goading.

The evening meals with GWEC were always a highlight, allowing us to relive our vacation days in a relaxed environment with those who shared akin but different experiences. As always, it’s also fun to reminisce with school friends, and the occasional political debate or practiced belittlement added additional flavors.

We spent most of our time in Paris enjoying fine food and brilliant (if squiggly) art. The five-day trip was the perfect length, giving me a taste without excess. Returning, I regret Seattle’s cheap, imitation art museums. They’re expanding the Seattle Modern Art Museum, but as it is now, it would fit in one walled section of any of Paris’s museums. We fly home full of memories and good photographs. I’ll share them with you once my website stands up. Erik promised to send more photographs to give a fuller picture of Paris, since he (and Will) traveled to more places than art museums, which I still can’t understand.

We’re less than two hours from touchdown. Flying west always seems easier because I don’t have to force myself to sleep, I need only stay awake until a normal bedtime. While this won’t cure jetlag, it will lessen it. I expect they’ll serve a cold dinner soon, and then we’ll land. I’m still seven hours away from Seattle, but much of that time, I will spend in LAX.