Worth staying up. To savor it all.

If I'm ever homeless on a cold winter night in Paris, you'll find me in the heated passageways between terminals at Charles de Gaulle Airport. Ain't gonna be like a cushy bed in a four-star hotel. Nevertheless, it'll be tolerable. Better than the street. The heating ducts at the bottom of the tall glass walls are narrow. But one can improvise. With a sheet of cardboard. Laid atop the duct. Voila! It becomes a heated mattress. Good enough for scores of homeless men when I wandered through the airport late last Thurday night and early Friday morning. Didn't see any women. Aren't there any homeless women in Paris? Some travelers snuggled in sleeping bags. On the hard marble floors. I was waiting for a Friday afternoon flight. Back to the USA. And instead of checking into a hotel, I wandered. And found cushy comfort on a sofa-like lounge chair in a closed restaurant in the midst of a remodeling project. It was the equivalent to sleeping in an outdoor cafe. Inside the terminal, of course. Just as well that I didn't go to the connecting Sheraton Ritz Hotel. Saved me about 100 euros. But better yet, it was a lesson in the night life at Charles de Gaulle. Very interesting. Seeing how the homeless improvise and make something halfway decent out of a potentially bad situation. Maybe this shows that I'm penny-pinching cheap. But instead, I looked at the experience as an adventure. Tasting life without going to bed. Though I did doze. Closed my eyes for a while. Then opened them again to gaze out the glass panel windows. Watching the streams of lighted traffic sweep by. Ah, seeing the hustle-bustle nightlife of Paris. A very much alive city. I reflected. My gawd, I'm in Paris. Real Paris. And just a few hours ago I was in Sardinia. From one paradise to another. From idyllic and passive and quiet. To one of the most unique life-thumping cities in the world. All in one day. Worth staying up. To savor it all. --Jim Broede