More trouble

When we arrived in Nuremburg, I wasn't surprised to not find my suitcase on the conveyer belt which was shuttling belongings through a trap door. How could my suitcase find its way through the labyrinth of the Charles de Gaulle airport when we barely made it to our connecting flight by running and crawling and following the trail of signs.


My first thought upon realizing that no more new pieces were appearing was - lost luggage = the perfect excuse for an 'out of control' shopping spree. With a great excuse, I was able to finagle a detour to the shops. We started in a lovely boutique. I frequent this shop when in Germany and usually have to censor myself to keep from buying more than will fit in my suitcase. However, I don't know if it's the 'breath fumes (see previous post)' or the lack of sleep, but I cannot make a decision and am having trouble even looking at the clothing.

I realize that I have to refocus. What is most urgent at this point? Underwear. I can rewear jeans, even after travelling in them for days and breathing on them with dragon breath. I can borrow a shirt from hubby, and I can sleep in one of his t-shirts, but I cannot re-wear my underwear, not even inside out, and his underwear has a wierd pooch in the front that I have no use for.

So, we head off to the underwear store. Bear in mind, that we are in Germany, and I can speak German just well enough to get around, but it takes a little time for the words to come, especially when I haven't slept.

We find the lingerie store, and there are beautiful European designer pieces that would look fabulous on any self-respecting anorexic model. I begin to walk through the racks and soon realize that a woman is following very closely behind me. I hear her speaking to me, but I ignore her hoping she will go away, because I simply cannot think of the translation for %$&* off! She lags far enough that I don't have to run and duck between the racks any more. Then, another woman is following me and asking me in German if she can help me find something. She spoke too loudly for me to pretend I didn't hear, but I do anyway. Soon, three women are gathered behind me, following every dodge and zag. This is now gang violence in the lingerie store. They are taunting me, speaking German among themselves and laughing . . . at me.

I turn towards them and try out a few of the Tae Kwon Do moves I have seen my son practicing, so they will know they can't mess with me. Then I leave the store with dignity and my head held high, knowing the only underwear I had was the pair I was wearing. Who needs their brand new, clean, non-stinking panties, anyway . . . besides me. We leave the shopping district empty-handed, and I know I wasted my best ever excuse for shopping, thanks to the 'panty gang'.

Finally, we landed in our hotel room approximately 24 hours after leaving the wedding - on virtually no sleep. I brushed my teeth, scrubbing and scraping for 218 minutes continuously. I took a shower for at least 3 hours and put on a nice clean t-shirt of hubby's. I tucked into the clean sheets, knowing I would need to find a good use for that pooch in his underwear tomorrow, because I would be wearing them.