Getting Egged On The Seine In Paris, France, 1983

My parents took me on my first trip overseas when I was 9 years old. They chose Europe because they felt that it was different enough to introduce me to other cultures, but enough like home that it wouldn't be too much of a shock for me. Our plans were to spend a month in France and then a month in Italy (though we ended up going to Germany and Austria, too, but more on that in a future post). We started out in Paris. I was immediately taken by this picturesque city -- the old, ornate buildings; the bridges, the Eiffel Tower hovering over it all. Nothing in the United States looked like Paris! Unfortunately, our first day there quickly turned into a disaster. I should start by explaining that my dad is a very talented amateur photographer. He's won several contests for his travel photos and could probably get a job as a professional if he really wanted, but he's never gone that route. Still, when he takes photos and slides, he doesn't just point and click like I do. He has to have the right camera, the right lens, the perfect light. He wanted to get a nice panoramic shot of Paris, so we climbed to the top of Notre Dame cathedral where there's a great lookout point. This was the most amazing church I'd ever seen and the view was spectuclar, as well. I stood out there enjoying myself as my parents pointed certain sights out to me and my dad set up his camera. But then the unthinkable happened; he *dropped* it and it broke! This was only the start of our trip; what were we going to do without pictures? I couldn't believe that out of all the places to broke it, it was at this famous church? There was some yelling and cursing, but we found a camera store and my dad picked up another. It wasn't as good a camera as the one he'd had with him, but it was better than nothing. Later, we decided to relax after that day's events and take a sunset boatride on the Seine. I've always loved boats so I got a kick out of floating down the river under what seemed like an endless number of bridges. Paris was even prettier from the water and I liked looking out at the city. As we rode, the captain pointed out sights to the passengers, but my dad noticed something else entirely; there was a man relaxing on the bank who had his pants down and you could see, well, everything. I never got a chance to look, though (which was probably a good thing in the longrun)because before we were suddenly pelted by something from above. Eggs! As we floated beneath a bridge, a bunch of kids targeted our boat. Many of the passengers were hit, but my mom and I were the most affected. I remember that there was egg in my hair, my outfit and even my shoes. My poor mom was wearing a white dress that was now streaked with yellow. She was crying, my dad was furious ... it was a pretty awful way to begin our vacation. These days, this is one of those memories that I laugh at. I mean, what were the odds, right? And since no one was hurt, really, what can you do but chuckle at such a bizarre incident? Still, whenever I've visited Paris or see a picture of the Seine I think of that weird day. And then I smile.