The taxi to Orly
Well… I made it into Toulouse.
I must confess I was a little apprehensive when the travel agent suggested I take the early morning flight into Toulouse rather than hold out for the train. I was secretly hoping for the train but it would have meant cutting my time in Paris short and leaving a day early.
So… I opted to fly the short distance instead.
Why the apprehension you many well ask? Especially after having sat contentedly on the 24 hour flight to Paris. No… it wasn’t fear of flying. On the contrary. Of course.
Wings over Toulouse
I know this might seem a bit silly of me really… but it was the memory of a flight taken years ago between Geneva and Nice that had been holding me back. The spontaneous decision to fly the short leg instead of taking the 10 hour journey by train up over the Alps… had been an easy one.
The fact that Swissair had a 3 hour wait on that connection and Air France had none seemed curious to me at the time LOL However… as time was at a premium… Air France it was.
My best memory of the flight was taking off perpendicular to the earth in a direct line toward the Alps… plastic champagne flute filled to the brim and swivelling wildly in the swinging cup holder in the armrest of my seat… [no doubt installed there expressly for this purpose].
I had been anticipating the usual safety spiel before takeoff when… with the cockpit door wide open and final clearance for take off received… the aircraft rolled into full throttle still with the service trolleys in the aisle. The champagne must go on!
It was a wild ride. A crazy manoeuvring of steep left and right hand banks until we reached cruising altitude… and then after only a few moments of level flight… the crazy descent into Nice.
I must say it was kind of fun. Though I was awfully grateful to be back on the ground. But I was a bit younger back then too of course… and way so much more worried about stuff like that [grin]
This time I just sat back and enjoyed the ride. No champagne. But a great cup of coffee and delicious croissant [made with real butter] served in the nick of time minutes before the top of descent!
The French fly like they drive. With verve and huge self assurance. You can feel it in the flying style [I know it might sound odd... but yes... you can get a sense of the pilot's personality by the way he or she flies the aircraft] Interesting isn’t it?
Anyway… I arrived in Toulouse… with an hour to spare [in case you were wondering] LOL
