What Happened in France~ Part 6

    Oh my word! What is this all about? The sight that met my eyes as I descended unto the level below was startling to say the least, if not utterly intimidating. Three very physically fit men dressed in distinct uniforms of camouflage fatigues, were unmistakably on patrol in the area; their semi-automatic weapons held at the ready in front of them. Their sleeves were neatly rolled up to the elbows, berets were on their heads, and their combat boots clumped across the floor as their eyes scanned every face in the crowd for signs of possible hostility. I had never even heard about such measures being taken in France, not even during our pre-departure briefing from the university foreign affairs office. I did all that I could to keep myself from staring at the authoritative spectacle in front of me. "The train station office should be just beyond the line of ATM's." Sharron informed us, "We can get our tickets there and then wait for the next train to Tours." That was welcome news to the rest of us, who were still rather groggy and tired from the whole trip in general. As we moved in position to get in the queue for the ticket station, I looked around to take in my surroundings. Moving across the overhead balcony was another group of men grasping carbine weapons between their bulging muscles; this time they were dressed in dark blue and black SWAT-style uniforms, with Police Municipal prominently written in white letters across the backs of their Kevlar vests. Moments later I looked up again, this time in the other direction, only to see more uniformed men with weapons descending the narrow staircase (for employee use) to give the waiting area another patrol sweep. I wonder if they're the French version of the FBI... I now became overly self-conscious of my movements, and hoped that nobody wouldn't mistake my curiosity and exhaustion for "suspicious actions".

  Eventually, our little group got to the front of the line and was ushered into a small, but clean and brightly furnished room that resembled something of a help desk and a service storefront put together. As I had previously been elected the spokesperson for the group whenever possible, I moved forward to the desk where several professionally dressed women were standing and addressing customers needs. One of these women corrected me for going up to her so soon, and instructed me to take a number from a nearby distributor machine and wait until my number was called. Before I could ask if this number was allowed to be used for a group, or only for an individual, she gestured me away with a sweep of her hand and began chatting with the next customer. I made the executive decision that we only needed one for our whole trio, and promptly took a slip of paper with a number combination from the machine before going to the crowded indoor waiting area where Sharron and Mark were already waiting to inform them of the situation.
 
   Many long and impatient minutes went by before our number was finally called. I moved forward, suitcase in tow, while Sharron conscripted Mark to help with her excess luggage as they followed on behind me. We had to produce our passports and ID cards before being able to read out the destination details to the ticket agent, given to us by the program director only a week or so earlier. After clarifying that although we were indeed paying the fare separately, we would still appreciate getting adjacent seats, she handed us the large, rectangular billets while we swiped our credit cards one by one in payment of our passage. Moments later, we emerged from the quiet ticket station, and back into the bustling waiting area where we had previously been. "Do you see the time on this thing?!" Sharron almost had to shout above the noise around us. I looked at the departure time for the next train to Tours which we had just booked. "That's nearly six hours away from now!" I exclaimed in annoyance and dismay. "What are going to do in the meantime?" "I'm fixin' ta go out them doors to git myself another smoke!", Mark announced to the group, and proceeded to walk through the exterior doors only a few yards away from where we were standing. He soon returned with a uniformed airport/station employee, who ushered him into a nearby "smoker room" that was hidden away in a corner of the atrium. We laughed at Mark's embarrassment before finding an unused selection of sofas that we could claim by barricading ourselves in through careful construction of our luggage and carry-on pieces, once seated.

   An hour passed, during which I chatted some more with my companions, laughed at a few jokes that may not have been so funny in a less sleep-deprived state, and people-watched. Sharron looked up from her phone, "You know that you can sign in to their guest WiFi signal for 20 minutes at a time, right?" "Really? I had no idea! Do we need to make an account?" I pulled out my previously useless smartphone and unlocked the device. "I don't think so...", she said distractedly as she went back to studying the screen in front of her. I selected the guest option on the available WiFi menu, typed in a few personal details, and was taken to a "Bienvenue..." page with a 20 minute countdown timer. I immediately went to my email and typed a message to my mom to say that I had arrived safely, with a few other details about what was going on. Just as I was reviewing my text for any possible edits before sending it through cyberspace, I suddenly felt as though I was being watched. I looked up and was confronted by the gaze of a young soldier, his weapon only a short distance from my person. "Bonjour monsieur", I quietly pronounced despite my perturbed and muddled state of mind. He continued to glare for a moment at my upturned face, and then silently turned to look at the Middle Eastern couple reclining on the adjacent sofa. I wonder if they're looking for someone in particular and I just look like them by coincidence...I thought to myself after the alarm had passed. I looked over at Sharron, curled against the corner of the couch, dozing quietly in the lull of the moment. Mark had gone to explore his surroundings out of sheer boredom, and I decided that since I was apparently so safe in this place, it would be a good idea to rest for a bit myself. I leaned my head on the propped up suitcase that had my carry-on over it. We still had five more hours of waiting, four and a half hours at the least, before we could walk out of the nearby doors and unto the train platform to leave Charles de Gaulle airport behind us.