things I hate about France.

It takes a lot to interrupt my mini-love affair with la France. But these people sure now how to push my buttons. It's the day before I leave for vacation and what do you know, the French air traffic controllers have decided to go on strike. Along with several airlines throughout Europe. Luckily I chose to fly Air Get-Me-The-Hell-Off-This-Plane, aka some third world country airline (let's hope the gods aren't feeling vengeful tomorrow...) that can't afford to go on strike. So I only have to worry about the massive delays and other related issues that will surely make me bitchy before noon.

I think these guys must have gotten together and asked themselves, "what could we possibly to do to inflict mass misery, stress, and pain on the general public?"

I know! I know! A huge strike! DURING VACATION!!!

Listen assholes. I don't pay your salaries. In fact, I'm not even French. And while I'm sorry you aren't getting paid what you want, and very apologetic about the fact that your job might be in jeopardy, I don't know why the hell you have to mess up my spring break plans with your symbolic protest. Because you know what? YOU'RE NOT THE ONLY ONE. Welcome to the club. Maybe you haven't read the paper, watched the news, hell even stepped outside in order to notice the little situation we're in. It's called "shitty economy" and it's breaking all of our balls, not just yours...

Ah, the nerve.

I get the whole "taking a stand" thing, and I applaud them for sticking it to the man. But really? during vacation? Couldn't they have done it in a few weeks? Media attention would have been the same. The French love a good grève, any time of year! But now, really? I JUST WANT ONE STRESS-FREE WEEK. For the love of God, is that too much to ask?

So, I'll be waking up at 430 am in order to catch my train at 520 so I can be ready for all the hell that's surely going to break loose at the airport.

As long as I get to Vienna...

Speaking of vacation, if I ever actually get there, I will have a pretty exciting trip ahead. I'm spending a few days in Vienna with Kate and a friend of hers. Then we take the train to Budapest and finally on to Bucharest. I don't know about you all, but Bucharest is the equivalent of the Bermuda Triangle here. No one, I mean NO ONE, knows where it is. I went to the train station to buy tickets (which, after waiting in line for 30 minutes, they told me was not possible), and the woman asked me where Bucharest was. If you're not from Europe, I might understand how Bucharest doesn't ring any bells. But come on, if you're from France, there are really no excuses.

I actually have distant cousins that live there. I'm pretty psyched about seeing them; after all, it has been almost ten years since the last time we got together. Their son has so generously offered to be our tour guide (although I suspect the excitement of hosting three twenty-something girls had something to do with it.....) and is taking us around Romania to see the sites. I've packed some garlic to ward off Dracula.

So that's about it. I won't be able to write next Thursday but hopefully will get something up on Sunday or Monday! Auf Wiedersehen!