In 24 hrs I will be on a plane… probably trying not to fall asleep on the random person’s shoulder next to me.
To prepare I am:
1. Packing like there’s no tomorrow… or rather, like I am leaving TOMORROW
2. Getting Euros from the bank.
3. Having a last American supper. Even though salmon and pasta are not exactly the most patriotic of foods.
4. Weighing suitcases and being as nervous as the contestants on that weight loss show, The Biggest Loser.
5. Skimming a book of French slang given to me by my friend, Nico. Some things I’m learning:
Your brother’s a thug (Ton frère est un voyou)
I hate spoiled rich kids ( Je déteste les fils à papa)
Don’t get your panties in a wad! (On va pas en faire tout en fromage) or “Don’t sh** your pants! (Te chie pas!)
Euro hipsters are too much (Les bobos me gavent)
“I’m stuffed” (J’ai les dents du fond qui baignent) Literally “the food has backed up to my molars”