That bastard Uncle Hugo bailed on us at the last minute. We were supposed to go hiking in the mountains with him, but he probably decided that getting drunk with his buddies was a better idea. We found ourselves with no plan for the week. So I decided we should take Auntie Amalia home in Paris and spend a few days there. After not debating at all about the means of transportation, we all agreed to hitchhike up there. It was Sunday midday, after a 3-days weekend.
You guys might not be familiar with mixing hitchhiking and Sundays. So here’s a couple of facts for you: Sundays means no trucks, no professionals, and a whole bunch of families on a weekend trip with cars filled with junk to the ceiling.
Common hitchhiker wisdom: You. don’t. travel. on a Sunday.
In particular after a 3-days weekend.
And that’s exactly what we set out to do. Insane, right?
It was way worse than we had anticipated. The few cars we could use were drowned into a thick flood of overloaded vehicles. Most people would have given up. Us? We did it in five rides. We arrived before bed time.
So, yeah, we’re in Paris.