What Happened in France~ Part 4

   Sharron was already waiting in the hallway as I entered the reception terminal. I looked over to my right in time to see Mark emerge from the customs terminal and swing his backpack over his shoulder before joining us as we walked out of the corridor and into the larger section of the airport. Immediately, Sharron began making it clear that getting her luggage was a priority, "We have to find the luggage terminal before we do anything else!" We looked around and soon realized the near impossibility of doing so, as there were no signs/labeled areas that led to anywhere we may need to go, no uniformed persons to ask directions from, and no instructions on our luggage claim slips for finding the "baggage claim" area. "Wut are we goin' da do?", Mark inquired bewilderingly. "Just so I know what to expect, do you actually speak French, or is that the whole reason you came on this trip in the first place?", I asked. Sharron and I had spent some time in French classes together at university, but her reading comprehension always surpassed her spoken ability/vocal knowledge of the language. Not that it would matter in this case... unless she had to speak to someone in French. "I don' know mucha' tall", Mark responded, his accent seemingly verifying his claim. Great! So I guess all the verbals are going to be up to me, I thought. I didn't doubt my ability, just my nerve to go so far out of my comfort zone while our entire trip practically hinged on my ability to successfully communicate and comprehend.

  After several anxious moments of consulting various directories on giant TV screens around the airport, we finally found what we hoped would be the luggage from our flight number. It should be mentioned that in the process of our search, we also discovered that our recent flight booked from a major US-based airline was also listed under a completely different name (or company) and number than the original one that we had been given, apparently due to a partnership between the US airline and a major France-based airline, although it was in fact the very same airplane! Once we had figured that out, we were able to locate the right alphabetical area for our baggage claim. Now we were standing around a rotating conveyor belt of luggage fitting every possible type of description, hoping that the proverbial fruits of our labors would soon be made evident. Sharron presently spotted her distinctly patterned pieces of luggage with personalized tags, and the excitement of our first big accomplishment set in as we began looking for my much less remarkable old grey suitcase, passed down to me from my late grandfather. In the sea of baggage, seemingly consisting of one shade of grey or another, it took several minutes for me to be able to claim my heavy traveling accessory. I turned to Mark and asked where his claim was located, to which he replied, "This is awal I got!", gesturing to his backpack as he did so, "I prefer d' travel lyed..." It would appear so, I thought to myself, but kept quiet as we moved forward to the next phase of our adventure: getting the train tickets to Tours.

  It was at this time that Mark decided to announce to the group that he was a smoker and had an urgent need for a cigarette. Apparently being on a non-smoking flight (and in an airport with a likewise restriction) for the last day or so had really taken its toll on his nicotine addiction. It was also at this time that I realized my urgent need for a cup of coffee! To make matters even more interesting, Sharron voiced her need to purchase a specific SIM card for an international cell phone plan that was supposedly located somewhere nearby. As we were leaving the now practically deserted baggage claim terminal, we noticed a strange room or chamber located at the exit area across from us. It was made of clear glass, possibly soundproof, and had an unmistakable vent pipe sticking out of the flat, white roof. How unusual, I wonder what it's for... my curiosity peaked as I moved towards this transparent encasement.