eleven hours in paris
A Change of Plans
The summer before my third and final year of law school, I flew to Europe to visit my good friend Adam, who lives in Budapest.
My itinerary included a short layover in Paris before connecting to Vienna. Adam would drive an hour to meet me there, where we planned to sightsee before heading to Lake Balaton in Hungary for the national holiday. The first leg of the trip—Minneapolis to Paris—was delayed a few hours due to a mechanical issue. Once resolved, I flew out that night but arrived in Paris later in the morning than originally planned.
It turned out the delay made no difference. My connection from Paris to Vienna was pushed back by eleven hours due to “scheduling adjustments.” Instead of arriving in Vienna before noon, I’d now be getting in just after 10:00 PM. Plans had changed. I was spending the day in Paris.
First Steps in Paris
My French was limited to oui, merci, and a handful of words with French roots, like memoir. Still, I managed to find a reliable vendor at the airport to store my luggage. With my bags secured, I exchanged some cash for euros and hopped on a train from Charles de Gaulle to the heart of Paris.
I got off at a stop in the 4th arrondissement (district) and exited the station next to a bridge overlooking the Seine. The sky was gray—exactly how I had imagined a French sky would look. I rested my hands on the edge of a stone bridge that looked like it had been there since the Middle Ages and leaned over the ledge to watch passenger boats drift by below.
The Seine
Castles and Cathedrals
Behind me, the Notre-Dame Cathedral stood in partial ruin from the 2019 fire. Its grand façade looked more eerie than magnificent, set against the towering cranes and ongoing construction. I took a few photos of the river and the cathedral—and even some uncharacteristic selfies. Then I mapped my next destination and started walking west.
Paris feels like a living, breathing work of art. From the Gothic and Renaissance-era architecture to the artists lining the sidewalks by the river with their paintings, sculptures, and handmade trinkets—I felt as if I was surrounded by art in every direction.
The Louvre used to be a castle. You can tell when you walk through its massive courtyards. I was mesmerized by the intricate detail of the statues of famous French figures along the palace’s roofline—each one distinct in design and expression.
How did they do that? I thought, awestruck.
I started live-streaming to share the views—something I rarely did. A girl I knew from college commented:
“It’s giving Belgium.”
I panned the camera to the glass pyramid in the center of the courtyard. An old teammate chimed in:
“Cause niggas was in Paris.”
I tried ordering an Uber to the Eiffel Tower, but drivers kept cancelling as soon as they heard my American English on the phone. It would be a 30-minute walk, but I knew there’d be plenty to see along the way.
Outside the Louvre
Through the 7th
It was a peaceful Thursday afternoon in the 7th arrondissement. Though a tourist-heavy area, everything moved at an unhurried pace. People lounged on café patios, puffing slim cigarettes and sipping espresso. Restaurants and gourmet shops drew food lovers from around the world. Students sprawled across grassy patches on their devices. The scene was busy, yet serene.
Suddenly, a commotion broke the peace.
I was a little over halfway to the Eiffel Tower when I noticed a couple walking along the grassy median. The man pushed a stroller down a narrow path, the woman trailed several paces behind him. Like me, they were headed toward Champ de Mars—the vast green space where the Eiffel stands.
The woman shouted, her voice sharp and full of accusation. She gestured wildly at the man, seemingly cussing him out in another language. It didn’t stop. She kept at him for minutes. Eventually, the man began to shout back at her over his shoulder, still pushing the stroller forward as if he was trying to outpace the confrontation.
Then the baby began to cry.
Onlookers glanced over, muttering to each other and shaking their heads. The once-tranquil atmosphere now felt charged and chaotic. I picked up the pace, hoping to put some distance between me and the drama. Before I knew it, the Eiffel Tower came into view—rising above the trees, pulling my attention away from the scene I’d just left behind. I took photos from different angles and picked a good one to share to my story.
Iron Lady
The Eiffel Tower isn’t the tallest structure in the world, but standing beneath it revealed details I couldn’t appreciate before. Seeing the intricate latticework was the kind of “zoom in” moment I didn’t know I needed. The Eiffel’s wrought iron framework crisscrossed into a perfect geometric grid at the base, while huge pulleys and thick lift cables moved in sync, carrying passengers to the observation decks above.
It was surreal to see the Eiffel Tower up close—and all because of a delayed flight.
Man Plans, God Laughs
Afterward, I navigated the Paris Metro back to the airport and caught my evening connection to Vienna, where I met up with Adam. That night, we bought bratwurst, a cold Austrian beer to wash it down, and wandered the old cobblestone streets of Vienna, catching up and settling into the next leg of the trip.
Travel, like life, seldom goes exactly as planned. I was frustrated when my Euro trip got off to a rocky start with the delay in Minneapolis and the subsequent delay in Paris. But looking back, it felt less like a disruption and more like a detour. What felt like an inconvenient delay was really just the trip starting early—in a city I won’t forget. Sometimes, unplanned moments can reveal the most unexpected beauty and memories.
Embrace the detours, because you never know where they might lead
