Merde what a day. The Journée du Patrimoine happens once a year. It’s a weekend of mayhem during which dozens of private exhibits and historical sites open to the public. We arrived at 8:45am on Saturday to tour Le Palais de L’Élysée– Paris’s version of the White House. It was before opening time and the line was already pretty long… and this wasn’t a single-file affair either- it was at least 12 feet wide all the way down. Victoria assured us that when her friend went the year before she arrived later in the morning and still got to the front in 2 hours. We waited. We waited for 5 hours and 40 minutes.
Minutes mushed into hours and back into seconds again. I started to lose all perception of time. The rain started and stopped and started again. The croissant cart with it’s little lime green umbrella flirted around the edges of the line. We were never close enough to even hope.
Eventually we found ourselves getting close to the front. We could see the top of the security tent! The other clue was that our personal space was reduced by a half. I had a middle aged lady’s entire body pressed up against mine… I tried to nudge her back but she wouldn’t get the idea. I think she even huffed a bit because I was in her way. Where the flute was I supposed to go, hm? And I’m pretty sure another guy was touching my bootay on purpose. Obviously there’s no real way of knowing, but I felt something weird twice and each time I glanced back it stopped immediately and he looked away. Ick. So anyway, we were sardining our way to the front edge. I had to hold my backpack down by knees as we were shoved tighter and tighter together. We lost Jen first and then Victoria made it out as well. I guess I’m not assertive enough. To breath again was so sweet. Security went alright but at the second checkpoint they secretly confiscated my water bottle. Thieves.
So then we entered the palace, right? Wrong.
There was another line to get in the front door. This one only took about 45 minutes, but it added insult to injury. Mind you, we hadn’t sat down in over 6 hours by the time we got into the building. I understand that many people work all day on their feet and I respect and admire y’all, but this was tough too. The on/off rain, the dense crowd, the making out… oh, did I forget to mention that? There was a middle-aged couple making out the entire time. I don’t mean occasional kisses that gross me out because I’m an agist prude. No, they were loudly sucking face and cooing at each other for HOURS ON END. We maneuvered away from them after suffering nearby in the initial line but encountered them again in the palace. I wanted to throw a shoe so hard.
Anyway, we finally got into the palace. Tired feet, no water, dead camera (I only got pictures of the line and the outside gate before it pooped out)… I was actually amazed by Victoria. She was still peppy and optimistic even in our darkest hours. Jen was quiet but still smiling. I was less enthusiastic. It was beautiful inside- we walked underneath one of the most beautiful ceilings I’ve ever seen- but for six hours and twenty-five minutes total wait time I won’t be visiting the palais again in the next decade. Anyway, cheers to Victoria and Jen for making it through without complaining!
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