In A Class of Our Own

Waiting at CDG for the early flight to JFK, I find myself surrounded by New Yorkers. A group I never thought I would belong to, and yet as much as I may deny it, I do.

Once you see the navy blue American passport its easy to spot us. We are the ones in shades of dark grey and black -- no jeans unless you are a man -- dark wrap, jacket or coat, and for ladies, some sort of wrap. We read newspapers, attend to blackberries, glance at the news, and overall appear nonchalant about the 8 hour flight ahead of us. We are a quiet group, fitting into ourselves, sitting alone with not much hoop-la. Even couples have a peace and quietness about them. We don't stress about travel, take a ton of photos or sit surrounded by duty-free shopping bags. Anything here we can get for less on the other side of the pond.

In the group of 50 or so filling the gate, at least half will be heading straight to the office after the long Labor Day weekend. That's how New Yorkers do it, not at the lake or watching college sports, but popping a flight to Paris for an evening of champagne and steak tartare, visiting a chateau or this is the passing in from Cannes or Marseille after vacationing for the month of August.

New Yorkers long to be European. We like the quality of life, the simple indulgences, the thoughtful afternoons curled up in a cafe... Sure, we work crazy hours on our side of the Atlantic, tune into our blackberries way more than we should, but its all so that we can enjoy this class of life that work provides.