The flight was a nightmare, delayed by bad weather and then turbulence, after which the airline lost my luggage.
It was an inauspicious start, but I decided to do just that. None would give me a room confirmation, but all told me to come anyway, as something would surely be available. Instead of preparing syllabi, I spent the last days of the old year making increasingly frantic phone calls to hotels along the rue Jacob where I had stayed previously. I needed those ten days to prepare for the onslaught to come, but it was the only time I could go to Paris. As 1981 began, I had ten free days between the holidays and the start of the new semester, when I would begin yet another grueling term of overenrolled courses.
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