A scissor story

I'd like to tell you the story of my little red scissors. There's nothing special about them. Just ordinary, small red scissors. Perfect for trimming threads while sewing. But they do have an interesting story. I acquired them 6 1/2 years ago for an emergency "haircut" in a foreign country. But let me back up.

September 4th, 2004.... I married my best friend on a windy, cool evening, spent a few sleepy hours at a beautiful hotel, and at 5am took a towncar to the airport for the crazy adventure that was our honeymoon.

We stopped in Toronto, then Cleveland (I think... Our many stops are a blur in my mind), then Paris, then finally landed in Nice, on the southern coast of France. By the time we landed, it was afternoon on September 6th and we were promptly informed by Air France that our luggage did not make the trip. Supposedly it had been left in Paris and would be delivered to our hotel that evening. This was not my favorite news. I was exhausted and hungry and wanted fresh clothes after being in the air for so long and basically sleeping in them. Them being my new 'Mrs. Tilden' tank top, cropped yoga pants, and flip flops. We got our cute little rental car and drove the hour or so to our hotel in the adorable little coastal town of St. Maxime, about 15 minutes east of St. Tropez. Finding our hotel was a challenge, but we arrived, asked them to call our room when the luggage arrived, and took a long nap.

We woke up to darkness. No luggage. Cell phones each showed a different time and there was no clock in our room. It could have been 4am or 9pm... We had no idea. But we were STARVED. And wide awake. Eventually we figured out it was 10pm. Driving into our tiny little town to search for food seemed like the best option- but nothing was open. Back in our room, we ate cheese nips for our first honeymoon dinner. Still in the same clothes from almost 48 hours earlier. AND because of our long nap we weren't tired at all.

Somehow we slept and woke up to sunshine and the beautiful Meditteranean. Luckily I had packed a swimsuit in my carry on bag, but Mike didn't... And we were starving again. So, feeling rather wilted in our travel clothes (and still no word on our luggage), we ventured into town again. And again, nothing was open. This would be a pattern we would eventually get used to. You eat when the French people eat, or there is no food to be found. Restaurants close between meals.

We found a McDonalds. Never in my life have I been excited to see McDonalds. For sure McDonalds would be open, right? Nope. So we found a drugstore and got some groceries, a swimsuit for Mike, a few toiletries, and I drooled over the enormous 'fromage' aisle. 

We also picked up a pair of small, sharp red scissors. I'll tell you why. Soon.

Back to McDonalds. Finally they were open, at about 930. So different than the States. We couldn't read the menu. Couldn't talk to the cashiers. This tiny town was not touristy at all. One of the reasons we chose it, but almost no one spoke English. So I pointed to the picture of pancakes.

We went on to learn that most restaurants don't have breakfast menus, but you can always ask for a croissant. Also, if you can't recognize anything on the dinner menu, you can always ask for 'frite' (fries. Nice and safe. Especially being vegetarian). And they don't bring water, you have to order it, and they charge you. Also, no one wears tops on the beach. Except me. And the locals drink wine all day long but barely eat. And when the menu says 'mozzarella', they only ever mean fresh mozzarella. They don't even have the bland, rubbery balls Americans call mozzarella. Ah, the cheese. Oh, by the way, those croissants are incredible. Like nothing I've ever tasted here. Another thing- when they say your luggage will arrive that same evening, they actually mean TWO DAYS LATER!

Back to the red scissors.

If you glance back at the wedding photo above, you'll notice my long hair. 

Now, look at this photo, taken in Monaco while honeymooning :

Short hair. By the way, that's the palace in the background. Amazing place. 

And no, I didn't make my husband give me a haircut with those tiny scissors. 

I actually had hair extensions for the wedding. Wanted long hair, didn't have it. So I bought it. But let me tell ya, that hair was heavy when wet! And took forever to dry. And we sorta forgot that european plugs needed adaptors for our appliances to work, so the first time I tried to use my hairdryer it sizzled, popped, smelled horrible, and flames came out of it. So I was stuck with pounds of wet, heavy hair. And this was not the kind of trip for being high maintenance. 

Hence, the scissors. 

The "hair extension specialist" who sewed the things into my hair warned me not to let my husband take them out. They were sewn in so tightly she practically guaranteed he would cut out a bunch of my own hair if he tried. But guess what? My husband is a perfectionist. And the sweet guy sat there on our bed for almost two hours cutting each thread, but not one hair. I knew he loved me before that day, obviously... but that's true love right there. Especially since he said I nearly had dreadlocks forming between the layers of extensions. Ewww. 

This is my bear, Velvet. Had him since I was little. And yes, he came on our honeymoon. He is a well-traveled bear. And yes, he is wearing my hair extensions. 

I can't tell you how happy I was to have them out. And to wash my hair, just my hair. And to let it dry in the mediterranean sun, no fiery hairdryer in sight. 

It really was an amazing trip. Once we got the hang of it. And once we got our luggage. 

Wanna hear the best part?

Air France lost our luggage on the way home, too. And we spent so long looking for it we missed our connecting flight. And had to spend the night in Montreal. And the ticket agent had the nerve to tell us they would put us up in the hotel, but we couldn't have toiletry kits or phone call vouchers. 

I'm not a big fan of Air France. 

But I sure do love France.