Lessons learned the hard way

So about 30 seconds into my plane ride last night, I learned that the British word for band-aid is "plaster." Not being one to learn from books what one can learn by doing (haha), I figured this out the hard way.

It all started with my carry on suitcase, which weighed a whopping 45 pounds (!!!). This was of course way over any legal limit for a carry on (it was stuffed with books and my roller blades), so I figured I'd just have to play it super cool and make it seem like the suitcase was lighter than it really was, since they don't weigh the carry ons. Really the only way I would get caught is if I had been visibly struggling with it.

So I was very careful to keep a nonchalant air about me as I hoisted the damn suitcase into the overhead bins. Which of course lasted all of about 2 seconds, since I couldn't get it up there without a struggle, haha. I had to take it down and take out some books from a front pouch because it was too bulky. In any case, I did in fact get it up there, even if it did take every ounce of strength I had.

I smugly sat down in my seat (an exit row, no less), congratulating myself on slipping past the crew. And that's when I noticed that my arm was covered in blood. And not just a little bit, this was the kind of cut that makes enough of a mess that you can't figure out where it actually IS. So I had to find a flight attendant, who sent me to the back of the plane where they had their special first aid kits. I got all nice and cleaned up, they're obviously well equipped with sanitizers and stuff on a plane. And I had to fill out a whole incident report. The problem is that the cut is deep enough that it was soaking through band aids (or plasters, as we were calling them at this point, haha). The flight attendant ended up giving me extra and I just kept it sealed as best as I could.

So that was lesson 1, regarding British vocabulary. Lesson 2 really isn't all that new, namely that French medications remain weird. Anyone who has ever had a cold in France knows this. They give you a chalky medication for colds that you have to dissolve in water. Weird as all hell, but on the upshot, I've always found it rather effective. Anyway, an open cut of this caliber was a new experience for me in France, so I made my way over to a pharmacy to consult an expert (keeping in mind that pharmacists have power of prescription here). I have walked away with what appears to be the French equivalent of steristrips, but it comes in this strange webbed goo form. It's like a sticky film that you spread over the cut. I'm unconvinced at this point, as it's bleeding through another band aid. But I just put it on so I'll give it some more time. Lest anyone worry, it's really not that big of a cut. It clearly looks way worse than it is, so I can be rather amused by the situation because it is indeed minor.

Anyway, in other news I'm in the dorm room, which is indeed pretty much what I expected, haha. There was no pillow or comforter or anything, so I've spent the day running all over the city picking up the bare essentials. Tomorrow will be more of the same. Pics will follow, once I get this place in order. I haven't even started unpacking yet.