We learned earlier in the year that the (not so) wee one would have the opportunity to perform at Disneyland Paris with her high school choir, so we did everything we could to make that possibility come true. After some successful auditions, we put up the £800 required to cover the bus journey, accommodation in Paris and park tickets. We later learned food wasn’t included, but I’ve already moaned about that.

We decided that we’d like to see her perform and felt it would be best to keep our attendance a secret. We thought it would be a nice surprise to show up unannounced in the last place she’d expect to see us.

So that’s what we did. To make it extra special, her aunt, uncle and big cousin decided they’d come along too.

We booked our flights with easyJet, going through the usual song and dance of describing mobility aids, including dimensions, batteries and weight, knowing full well they’d ask for all of this information at the airport.

We expected that she’d be setting off in the morning, so we booked the 6pm flight.

Prior to the planned departure of the coach from the high school, we were invited to an information day where they gave us a run-through of the itinerary, the times they’d be performing, and where they’d be in the park and two other public parks.

The most important thing to note was that the bus was leaving at 6pm! How would we navigate this?

We first thought of telling a white lie (the good kind), explaining how I had to go to the clinic in Newcastle for some tests, which was plausible, as I would have to do it a week later anyway.

Then we realised we’d need to remove Life360 from our phones, and felt that doing that on the day she was going the furthest away from us she’d ever been seemed cruel. Like, bye for five days, you’re someone else’s problem now!

When the day came, we had a French breakfast – well, coffee, croissants and pain au chocolat – cooked in the traditional French method of course (in the air fryer). We asked how she felt about leaving us. Surprisingly, she was happy about it – suspiciously so – and I explained how sad I was that we couldn’t go. She tried to make us feel better until I said, it won’t be too bad, we bought flight tickets to see you anyway.

She first thought we were joking, giving us a look that said ‘aye, right’ before I showed her the e-ticket. We explained that she’d have to go to her grandparents’ house early on, that they would take her to school, and we’d see her in Paris! We neglected to tell her about the aunt, uncle and cousin intending to join us.

I took the dog to my mum’s, came back and took the car to my in-laws, who very kindly gave us a lift to Glasgow Airport.

Getting to France

As mentioned, we went through the whole song and dance of telling easyJet about the name, weight, power and dimensions of my wheelchair and Triride. I can never fathom why they ask this when the check‑in crew are just going to ask you again anyway. But I know this song and dance inside out – it mostly goes to the Benny Hill theme.

First, we went to the check‑in desk, told them all the vital statistics and explained I’d be taking my wheelchair to the gate. I do this for two reasons: I don’t need to rely on anyone pushing me, and it goes onto the plane last, reducing – though never eliminating – the chance of it being crushed by rogue suitcases being thrown into the hold.

My wheelchair is worth over £2,000 and my Triride over £5,000. I say this not as a boast but to illustrate just how expensive this equipment is, and how horrible it is when it gets broken. Cough Malicious Menzies Aviation – the only thing that flies with them is your bloody equipment!

They applied a tag to both my wheelchair (at the back) and my Triride (around the power cable) and sent us on our way. They took a similar approach with my nephew’s wheelchair, which resembles a large buggy.

As a group with two disabled passengers, we were fast‑tracked through security. I laid out my equipment on the plastic tray and left my set of Allen keys visible – I knew they’d get flagged.

They had me roll through the scanners in my Triride, took me aside and asked me to apply my brakes. They first asked if there was anywhere it hurt to be touched. I explained there wasn’t, and they had me extend my arms as they patted me down. They then had me lean forward in my chair as they patted my back. The final step was to swab my wheelchair and my shoes to check for traces of drugs. The swabs were taken away to be run through a machine and came back clean.

With this ritual completed, I was free to collect my belongings. After that, I had a conversation with a nice person who wanted to know why I had a multi‑tool with several wee bits of metal in it. I thought about saying it was for my Wolverine cosplay, but didn’t fancy getting arrested. I explained that my chair often gets knocked around, and that it was to repair my chair quickly if anything came loose. They checked with their supervisor and let us head into the duty‑free wonderland – VAT is free, but the bars charge £8 a pint (still cheaper than London).

After getting ripped off in the bar and chilling for a bit, we went to our gate. This time we had an ambulift, which took us to the door of the plane. I disconnected my Triride, locked the support bar in place and folded down my chair. I used the wall, the rails on the walkway and the headrests of the chairs to “Spiderman” my way to my seat.

I gave Tracy the window seat because, unlike Melania Trump’s eyes, chivalry is far from dead. As we prepared for landing, we were given two well-received but poorly timed beers courtesy of a pilot friend of ours. He wasn’t flying us that day, but he’d pulled a few strings. In retrospect, we should have held onto them, because we were about to spend a wee bit of time in the airport.

Cheers!

When we landed, our party faced a very common problem. My nephew’s wheelchair was again mistaken for a buggy and taken away with the luggage into the terminal, whilst my Triride and wheelchair were waiting for me on board the ambulift.

We waited for my brother-in-law, sister-in-law and nephew at passport control, while they waited for the wheelchair to show up. For the record, the easyJet staff were great and made sure the ground crew knew it was important for the wheelchair to be returned, but it’s still a pain.

As Tracy and I had everyone’s passports, she took hers so she could gather the bags, and I waited for the rest of our party. As it took a while for us to regroup, she had them waiting for us by the time we got through. We quickly found our way out of Charles de Gaulle with the guidance of airport staff, who helped us secure two wheelchair accessible taxis. We spoke to our drivers and agreed on a €65 fare to our hotel.

As our respective cars made their way to our accommodation, Tracy and I chatted for a bit but mostly spent the ride looking out of the window as wild streaks of lightning illuminated the night sky. At one point, we saw spotlights sweeping across the dark clouds like an incomplete Bat-Symbol, and saw that they were coming from atop the golden glowing Eiffel Tower.

We got to our hotel, arriving just before midnight, and checked in to rest for the day ahead.

On the other side of the water

Meanwhile, in the distant realm of England, the wee one and several small sophomores were gathered at a service station. She was tearing into a Magnum ice cream and updating us via a video call on WhatsApp that the bus had an issue. She didn’t elaborate other than “the driver can’t go fast”, then said “Okayloveyoubye!” as they were about to get back on the bus.

She was with a bunch of responsible grown-ups – and some teachers – so all we could do was leave her to it and await the next update.

Paris: Day 1

We awoke to an alert from the Stack Team App, which the school had us install, at 07:30, notifying us that a repair vehicle had arrived to inspect the bus. Either the bus would be fixed or another driver would need to be booked to get them moving again.

As this carried on, they missed the ferry. Three hours later, the bus had been fixed, and an hour after that, they were on the ferry! Finally, some movement.

Looking at our location on Life360 compared to where the wee one was really showed how far apart we were. Now that we knew she was on her way, we could relax a little and get out to explore.

Day one was mostly conducted on foot – or wheels if you’re me. We headed in the general direction of the Eiffel Tower, stopping in for a two-course breakfast at Café Ella, which was sorely needed. I uttered the phrase, “I don’t think I could eat that much,” and subsequently ate that much.

On the way, I may have shouted at a tourist who decided to take a selfie in the middle of the road as we were trying to cross. Just you block the dropped kerb – it’s cool if we get hit by a car, as long as you get your likes on The Gram!

We sat outside. The staff had to move some chairs around so the two wheelchair users and three, um… feet users could get in, but we managed. I had the avocado toast, speculoos pancakes, coffee, orange juice and heartburn – not from the food, that always happens when I drink orange juice. Tracy had the eggs Benedict, fruit pancakes and the coffee and OJ.

Suitably stuffed after brunch, we continued our walk before stopping for a £12 pint of Christ knows what lager at Chez Ribe – the TripAdvisor reviews say it all! After being suitably punched in the pocket, we went around the corner to see the tower for the first time that day.

I’ll be honest, I wasn’t really fussed about seeing the Eiffel Tower, but it’s definitely more impressive in person.

The area around it was packed with vendors, probably operating outside the law, selling power banks, mini Eiffel Towers, and all sorts of tourist tat. We didn’t buy a thing – though later that night, one of them actually gave my nephew and me a free Eiffel Tower keychain. I’m guessing the driver was sympathy but hey, a freebie’s a freebie!

After soaking in the Eiffel Tower and snapping our photos, we wandered over to the Champs-Élysées, popping in and out of shops. I was honestly taken aback by the long queues outside the designer stores. That’s not how I’d spend my money, so it blows my mind people will queue just to drop a couple of hundred, or even a thousand, on a bag just because it’s designer.

The Louis Vuitton shop was quite the spectacle, it’s styled after a suitcase – eye-catching, gaudy, and, in a weird way, kinda cool. Still, if you’ve got a spare £1000 and you spend it on a bag, you’re off your head – I’d rather fund another city break, but hey, you do you!

Since we were nearby, we had to stop for a selfie at the Arc de Triomphe – queuing up in the middle of the road to get the shot. I was sorely tempted to make the loop on my Triride, but decided that particular day wasn’t the right day to die.

We made our way back to the Eiffel side of the Seine, grabbing some beers and chilling across from the Jacques Chirac museum – like cultured jakeys – as we waited for the sun to lower a little.

We spent a while Googling places to eat and decided that everything was either too far away or too expensive, so we swung by the closest supermarket and picked up some more beers, wines and some “sparkle snacks”, think charcuterie on a budget, but it did the job.

We ate our sparkle snacks and waited for nightfall to see the tower lit up. As we waited we heard waves of cheers and applause as several proposals happened one after the other – man, if I was anyone other than part of the first couple, I’d put that ring back in my pocket – I can’t think of a more cliché way to propose but if that’s what you like I won’t shame it – just not for me.

By this time the wee one had arrived and was now at the Explorers hotel in the Disney Village and they were planning to go out for dinner.

With the light show over we made the trek back to the hotel, checked in with the wee one before bed and snoozed our way into day two.

And that was day one!

We avoided public transport for the day, but it was unavoidable if we wanted to see the wee one perform in the park and at Disneyland Paris. Stay tuned for days two and three in the next blog, and let me know about any vacations you have planned in the comments!

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Aurevoir!