Again, But Better

14. Sail?
I’m up at 7:00 a.m., washing my face and doing my makeup in
the bathroom. I pull on dark blue jeans and a black turtleneck,
because it’s freezing outside, and leave my hair down. Back in
the room, one of the strangers is gone, but the other is still
asleep. He looks oldish, in his forties or something, and he’s
wearing a sleep-apnea mask.
I’m sitting on my bed playing Angry Birds, dressed and
ready to go, when Pilot stirs awake a little before 8:00 a.m.
“Morning,” he says, sitting up.
I drop the iPod in my lap. “Morning.”
“What’s that?” He yawns, nodding at it. His eyes narrow.
“Are you Angry Birding without me?”
“Um.” I smile guiltily.
He laughs, bringing his legs over the side of the bed and
pulling on jeans. “How dare you?”
Pilot grabs his bag from our gym locker. He eyes me with
surprise. “Are you already ready?”
“So, guys, I signed us all up for Paris Pass,” Babe explains as
we walk toward the Metro. “It’s this all-inclusive thing that
gives us unlimited access to the Metro for the next two days
and includes tickets to the Louvre and Versailles. We have to
go pick it up first, but maybe then we head to Versailles and do
the Louvre and everything else tomorrow?”

---

“Saturday night, we hitting the club scene for my birthday,
yo! It’s gonna be sick,” Chad adds.
“Sounds good,” Pilot says. “I took a look at the map. Our
hostel is kind of far from everything, but we’ll make it work.”
It takes us an hour to get to the convenience store and pick
up the Paris Passes. Pilot wasn’t exaggerating when he said we
were far from everything. But once we get there, it only takes
Babe a minute to run in and emerge with our tickets. She
hands us each a pass.
“So, how do we get to the palace now?” I ask with a hop.
“Now, we catch the RER,” she answers cheerily.
“The what?” Chad interjects as Babe leads us away.
“What is this, RER?” Pilot questions in a ridiculous French
accent.
“It’s a bigger train that goes to farther places,” Babe
explains as we trot behind her down the street.
“So we’re taking the Rerr
?
” I say goofily.
Babe laughs. “The R-E-R,” she repeats.
“The Rerr,” I repeat back.
“We’re hitting up the Rerr,” Pilot backs me up.
“I’m so pumped for the Rerrr, you guys,” Chad pipes in. I
laugh, and Babe starts chuckling along.
“Okay, the Rerrr,” she concedes loudly.
Babe leads us to another underground platform much like
the Metro, except cleaner. We stand in a little circle, waiting
for the train. There’s a distant rumble as it approaches, and
with a rush of wind, the RER pulls into the station. It’s a
double-decker, and we’re all thoroughly impressed by it. The
seats are arranged in groups of four, a set of two across from a
second set of two. Pilot takes the seat next to me, and Babe
and Chad sit across from us.
“How long is the ride?” I ask Babe.

---

“I think around thirty minutes,” she answers. Chad leans
his head against the window and closes his eyes. Babe pulls a
brochure for Versailles from her bag and starts to read. I watch
them for a moment before Pilot turns to me.
“Angry Birds?” he says with quiet excitement. I smile and
dig my hand into my purse.
Versailles doesn’t look real. A massive stretch of gravel spans
before us. Is this a driveway? Maybe for a family of giants
with twenty cars. It leads to an endless sprawl of gold
building.
When we get inside, a tour guide escorts us up to the
second floor. On the way up the stairs, I catch sight of the
backyard (if you can call it that) through the windows.
“Holy crap, do we get to go out there?” I look to Babe
anxiously.
“Yes, don’t worry!” She giggles.
Pilot’s mouth quirks up his right cheek. “I’m excited about
this.”
We come to a stop in an overwhelmingly lavish foyer area
that leads into the legendary Hall of Mirrors that everyone
talks about. After snapping a few pictures (Babe snaps one of
Pilot and me, and Pilot takes the camera to get one of Babe
and me while Chad hangs to the side), we stroll on in.
It looks like a ballroom. Gorgeous chandeliers drip from
the ceilings. Tall golden candelabra line the edges of the room,
and mirrors decorate the walls. Are they mirrors? They’re
more like old, decorative reflective glass.
“Wait, this is the Hall of Mirrors?” I ask hesitantly as we
make our way across it. “Where are all the mirrors?”
“Right there!” Babe points to the decorative glass panels
along the wall.

---

“But those aren’t mirror mirrors, those are like glass …
that reflects you,” I fumble. That didn’t come out right. Pilot
starts laughing.
“Glass that reflects you? Like a mirror?” Chad asks
sarcastically.
“But there are no real mirrors!” I protest.
“Is this the real Hall of Mirrors? Are we in the faux Hall of
Mirrors?” Pilot exclaims, pretending to be outraged.
“This is it!” Babe cackles.
“I was expecting, like, a fun-house maze of mirrors…” I
explain, full-on laughing now. I guess I heard about this when
I was really young, and that’s the image I conjured in my
brain. Pilot appears on my right, grinning broadly.
“No, I was expecting a fun house too,” he says quietly.
“Right?” I exclaim.
“I mean, when you think Hall of Mirrors you think