Actually, it’s more like a day and a half because Air France cancelled my flight, the only daily non-stop between Boston and Charles de Gaulle, and consequently I got in much later than I had planned. Originally, they tried to send me via Detroit, the logic of which was presumably suggested by some inscrutable Zen koan: “You must go west to travel east.” When the Air France flight to Detroit was delayed, I was able to convince them to pony up for a flight on Alitalia, so I went to Paris via Milan’s Malpensa Airport.

(Doesn’t “Malpensa” sound like the name of a super arch-villainness in a comic book? “Malpensa! She plants evil thoughts into the minds of the Superheroes, fomenting suspicion and dissent!” Seriously, this is not a name that inspires confidence.)

I’m still marveling that there’s only one non-stop flight between Boston and Paris. Hub of the Universe, my ass. At this point, I’d settle for “hub of at least one major airline.”