My trip to Lisbon entailed a connection in Paris at Charles de Gaulle International Airport. So now, I’ve technically been to France, but since I never left the airport, I don’t think it really counts. (When I mentioned to one of my colleagues that I paid a brief visit to his native country, he replied, “I hope it went okay.” Off my confused expression, he continued: “I try to avoid changing planes in Paris. There is about a 30% chance that somebody will be on strike.”) When our flight landed, a series of buses arrived to take the passengers to the terminal. Or at least, that’s what we thought the bus was going to do. In fact, the bus took us on what appeared to be a grand tour of all the service areas of the airport. Look, the baggage sorting machine. Here’s a building shaped like a wheel of cheese. Over there, the food service trucks. Hey, didn’t we pass this building already?

After a three-hour tour of the facilities, we finally stopped in front of the terminal. I was expecting an announcement over the speaker: “We hope you enjoyed this bus tour of Charles de Gaulle International Airport.”