FRANCE (OR IS IT SWITZERLAND)

Although the clouds were thick all the way up until landing the only thing I'm pretty sure of is that I landed back on Earth. I saw a few industrial type buildings and such but outside of a lonely FED EX plane tucked off to the side I was pretty sure that this airport (Bâle, Basil) has to be either a bizarre after thought or bucolic thought towards the future. Either way, I'm here and I gather myself since this is for all intents and purposes the start of it all. Once I leave this plane there is no looking back. Oh, who am I kidding, if I looked back now all I'd see are another hundred people looking forward. I leave the plane and am kind of startled that I'm immediately out in the open. No customs people, no security, not even a janitor. After a few minutes I see my bag round the carousel and I head out the sortie. Easy enough I think as I finally find the customs agent waiting around the bend. She looks me over with a surprised look of confusion that I seem to strike most people with on this trip. She looks my passport over, front to back, literally just flips it to see if there is a cover on the back.

"You live in London?"

"No."

Now there are two confused people counting myself. Why would I live in London when I just got stamped there three days ago and wouldn't I have some sort of legalized visa to show why an American was living in England? Either way she shrugs it off and stamps my passport and I think the stamp answers my question. 

"So I am in Switzerland."

The reason I was wondering is on the Internet, depending on what site, it's listed as France or Switzerland. I thought the whole thing to be a bit odd until I walked out the door and realized that this airport is perfectly situated to enter Switzerland...and France, if you so chose to go out door number two but I left door number one and of course door number one is no longer available for reentry. Et voila! I am in Switzerland and my ride is in France.

I enter back through departures with the mission impossible theme song keeping me company until I find a British Airways worker who points me in the right direction. I find the French customs area and I begin to tell them what happened and all he does is wave me through once I reach the third word. The sign says to go down to enter France but there are no stairs and the area that points to France literally points to the concrete floor. I wander a bit more until I find an elevator and that is how I entered France, via a metal box. I soon find Adélaide's mother. She was supposed to have a sign with either my name or her name on it but as I was one of three people in the terminal and she being the second, well, we sort of figured it out...and then my lessons in French took the turn I was dreading. Total immersion...now!

I some how explained to her that the bastards in England poisoned me and that I haven't slept for two days and am very sorry for being such and idiot and only taking two (+) months to learn a language that I should have spent three years or more on. She said some things, rapidly, and before I knew it we were off. In reality this is probably how the KGB picked up unsuspecting patriots back in the day. One of the things I clearly understood was her question on how long I would be staying. Crap, she's probably already looking to be rid of me. All I can think as the conversation runs dry is that this is the mother; I still have to make acquaintances with the father. Mon dieux!