Le Tour D'amour
Momentarily stunned, I stood in the middle of the carriage like a rabbit caught in the headlights of Le Metro , unable to move, transfixed by the beauty of the French belle. The sound of a siren alerting passengers of the imminent closure of carriage doors awoke me from my love-struck stupor. Caught on the hop, I struggled to haul my baggage from the train in time. The doors closed, trapping one arm inside attached to a suitcase. In the seconds that it took to untangle my language, get help from bemused Parisians and pull myself back together, mon dieu , she was gone. Striding out like Carla Bruni at Art et Metiers station, she was lost in a sea of frogs exiting the underground. Desperate to catch sight of her again, I climbed stair-by-stair, escalator-by-escalator, dragging my wheely bag along the tiled labyrinth of tunnels. “ Allez allez ” I exclaimed in faultless French until finally reaching the street above, breathless and bereaved. Accepting my loss, and with the ke...