Faking It
“The first thing I see when I step off the high-speed train and onto the TGV platform is a chic, willowy French woman holding a large sign with what would have been my married name printed on it. Welcome, Nathaniel and Vivia Edwards. It’s like the universe is mocking me, saying, “Go ahead and try to forget Nathan.”
The chic French woman notices me staring at the sign and walks over.
“Bonjour, Madame Edwards! Welcome to Montpellier.” She looks over my shoulder at the passengers disembarki...ng. “But where is Monsieur Edwards?”
Fanny is still retrieving her large rolling suitcase and has not yet joined me on the platform. I, however, am sans bags. According to the Air France Spécialiste des Bagages at Charles de Gaulle, my luggage has “pris un détournement.” Translation: taken a diversion. Actual meaning: is sitting on a carousel in Zurich, Copenhagen, or Madrid because we employ people who are either too stupid or too inconsiderate to care what happens to your flatiron and La Perla panties.MoreLess
The chic French woman notices me staring at the sign and walks over.
“Bonjour, Madame Edwards! Welcome to Montpellier.” She looks over my shoulder at the passengers disembarki...ng. “But where is Monsieur Edwards?”
Fanny is still retrieving her large rolling suitcase and has not yet joined me on the platform. I, however, am sans bags. According to the Air France Spécialiste des Bagages at Charles de Gaulle, my luggage has “pris un détournement.” Translation: taken a diversion. Actual meaning: is sitting on a carousel in Zurich, Copenhagen, or Madrid because we employ people who are either too stupid or too inconsiderate to care what happens to your flatiron and La Perla panties.MoreLess
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