The day started well. I love breakfast, and the one we ate in the hotel was the best among a group of superb morning meals. My only regret was that I wasn’t able to take some of it with me.
We had to return our rental car before boarding the train for Paris. I thought that would be easy, but it wasn’t.
We had an address, and knew that the rental car drop-off place was near the train station, which wasn’t far away. In another example of excellent planning, Dori had picked this hotel partly for its proximity to the station.
After packing up and loading the car, we headed toward the station. Once again, our GPS proved useless, so we had to rely on the address, a map, and our eyes. As we approached the railroad station, we looked closely at all the street numbers. Nothing seemed like a car rental office, we drove around a second time
I parked the car and waited while Dori went to examine what seemed to be the door indicated by the address, but it was only the entrance to an underground parking lot. She returned empty handed, having inquired at the café next door to no avail.
By this time, I was perspiring with intense frustration and anxiety lest we miss our train.
Then Dori thought of parking at the station and asking someone there. She found a very attractive woman, who turned out to be a Jehovah’s Witness handing out their literature. “Angels” come in many guises, however, and this one led Dori to the station master’s window.
Lo and behold! When man at the rental car place where we had picked up our vehicle a few days before said that we should return it “at the train station,” he wasn’t kidding! All we had to do was leave the car in the station parking lot and give our documents to him.
We had nothing but gratitude to God as we completed that transaction and boarded the train for our last day in Paris.
Well, I did have one other emotion: Chagrin at my failure to trust God and to take directions seriously.