In Paris we stayed at a hotel a few streets over from my friend. I served in her branch back during my mission, and her family was just awesome. Anyway, she was the one who took us on all the right metro lines and helped us just plain get around. I'm sure I could have managed, but I think it's better to have someone who knows the city with you. I was very thankful for her company and her help. It was fun having her around.
Anyway, we left her apartment after breakfast and made for the metro station. When we were buying our tickets for the day we heard the train pull into the station a flight of stairs below us. Metro trains don't stay in the station for very long, and accordingly we rushed through the ticket gate (you have to put your ticket into a machine before the gate unlocks) and raced down the stairs. When we got to the landing I heard the signature alarm that meant the doors would soon close and if you weren't on, then too bad. When those doors come down they come down HARD, too. You can't hold them open like you can the elevator. In fact, there's a warning on the window of the door: "Please be careful. The elevator doors will close and pinch hard if you try to block them." So I make for the nearest door quick as I can and my friend runs six feet over to a less crowded door. Mrs. Sixline wasn't sure who to follow and hesitated for moment before following my friend. I just kinda pushed my way onto the train not really worrying about who I stepped on. I turned around to make sure Mrs. Sixline got on behind me and didn't see her. I frantically turned to see the doors close right in front of her with my French friend on the train and Mrs. Sixline standing and watching as we rode away with a look of bewilderment on her face. Since she made for a door away from me, I pushed my way to my own door and saw her as I went by. I yelled "STAY HERE!!!" and motioned wildly for her not to move. My friend just cracked up.
It's no insult to Mrs. Sixline's abilities, I just was worried that someone would try to do something to her. Sometimes people aren't very nice to Americans (it's surprising I know!) and I was afraid some punk kid would try to hit on her or start screaming at her for being American. Obviously none of this happened, but I was afraid nonetheless.
Anyway, I got off at the next stop, went up the stairs and around to the other side, and took the next train over to the previous stop. When the train I got off of whisked away, I could see across to the other side and Mrs. Sixline was just giggling like a schoolgirl. When I went up and over to the other side it was clear that I was the one who freaked out the most.
We had a heck of a time in Paris. Paris rocks.