The Eiffel Tower (Day 2) (Historical)

After a lofty night at our hotel, I rose from my slumber intrinsically. My neck was slightly craned from the previous flight, but other than that, I was more than excited to take on the day. I briskly paced out onto our balcony, where I perceived a perfect view of our future excursion: The Eiffel Tower. It could be no more than a mile and a half away from our hotel. Due to our elevation in the hotel, not only could I see the incredible monument, I gaped at the beautiful canal in which it bordered. The solemn blue provided a magnificent contrast to the shining creme-colored boats as the vessels shimmered by.

 As I glanced back, I came to the realization that I was the only one awake. Evan was balled-out on a pull out mattress. Ethan lie perpendicular to Evan, sleeping on the velvet chair for which he insisted was "extremely comfortable". Gene and Will were both curled up in their beds. I checked the analog clock next to Gene's shoulder. It was 9:14 A.M. My heart dropped. We had a tour set for 9:30. Rising from my diaphragm, I bellowed my mother's infamous wake up call, "RISE AND SHINE BOYS". All four of their heads perked up, and I quickly shouted "OUR TOUR LEAVES IN 15 MINUTES". All of rushed to put clothes on, then I grabbed my wallet, hotel key, and tickets and we were out the door. We had no time to waste, and sprinting through the hotel hallways made me feel faster than ever before. "How far away is it?" Evan anxiously asked as we opened the hotel doors to be greeted by the temperate warmth of a Paris morning. "A mile, maybe a mile and a half" I proposed to him. Our original intent was to simply walk there, but now with twelve minutes until the tour started, we had no choice but to run. The pattering of our feet against the masonry of the Paris streets was abruptly interrupted by a banshee-like screech. I whipped around, but it turned out to only be Gene gripping his shoe with such force it turned his knuckles white. "I TRIPPED AND SCUFFED MY NEW ULTRABOOSTS" he exasperated. I genuinely did not care, so I grabbed his wrist and proceeded to run through the streets of Paris.

 "THERE IT IS" shouted Will, who was just turning the street corner. We headed toward the Tower where we were greeted by a small gray haired woman in a kiosk. I reached into my pocket and handed her our tickets. The time was precisely 9:30 and the lady directed us towards a group of around 20 other people for our tour. The tower was massive. It was 1,000 feet of intimidating, yet elegant iron architecture. We hopped on the elevator which provided us with a scenic panoramic view of the city of Paris. The city was beautiful, the buildings, the flora, and canals all tied together to produce a city unlike any other. Our tour guide took us through the three levels of the Tower, each one more majestic a view. When the elevator finally opened at the pinnacle of the tower, Gene rushed to the railing and spit over it. "Wow look at it go!" he exclaimed. We all watched intently as Gene swished the saliva his mouth, stuck his head over the railing and launched a gob of slobber onto the spectators below.






 The way in which the slobber manipulated itself as it fell was nothing short of astonishing. It was as if the hand of God were pushing it this way and that, curving it throughout the air and eventually landing splat on the crown of a tourist. Exclamations of glee were prevalent as we rained proceeded down the maelstrom on the spectators. We all continued to launch more balls of spit over the railing until the tour guide called "Securite!". At the time it was unknown, but "securtie" is the French word for security. We were briskly escorted from the Eiffel Tower. We were all told to never come back. We solemnly trotted back through the streets of Paris back to our hotel.