After seven and a half hours in the air with only a trip to the restroom to stretch your legs, you’re now making your way through the crowded concourse at Charles De Gaulle Airport in Paris. It’s 2:00 AM (in your head, anyway) and you can’t think of anything better than a soft bed and a fluffy pillow.
You step outside an hour later (after all the international customs hassle) and flag down a small Taxi Parisien. You heave a sigh as the driver puts your bags in the back and you get yourself situated in the back. He slides into the front seat, glances at you in the rearview mirror, and says,
“Où voulez-vous aller ?”