An Austinite In Paris
One Austin woman relives that terrifying night in the City of Light.
It was a Friday evening in Paris, and my sister and i had gotten dressed to the nines. I had arrived with two suitcases just five days earlier to embark on the next chapter of my life. The company I worked for in Austin transferred me to our headquarters in Paris for a two-year expat assignment. My dreams had come true. I was actually an American living and working in Paris.
My sister, Lauren, had flown to Paris with me to help with the move, and we were excited to spend that first Friday evening with a few of my new colleagues at dinner, maybe dancing, wherever the night would take us. We called an Uber from the hotel before noticing a group of guests glued to the TV screen in the lobby. I glanced at the television but couldn’t make out exactly what was going on. At that moment, one of my dearest friends sent a text, “Are you all right?”
As a native Austinite having just moved 5,000 miles from my hometown, family and friends, I thought she was just checking up on my general well-being. I responded, “Yes! Getting ready to go out for the night!” She quickly texted back that a shooting had taken place in the 11th district. “Your Uber has arrived,” my phone flashed.
In the United States, crazed shootings had unfortunately started to feel all too common, and this shooting was in what I knew to be an already volatile district. So without much thought, my sister and I stepped out in our sequins and headed downtown, into the City of Light. We were planning out our whole night— where we might go, what we might eat—when my phone started to flood with calls, texts and Facebook messages. “Please tell me you’re safe,” friends demanded. This was not just another shooting.
We were standing on a corner in the beautiful 8th arrondissment, near the Champs-Élysées, overlooking the sparkling Eiffel Tower, and just miles away from us, hostages were being held at the Bataclan. Taxi lights switched immediately from green to red. Every Uber I requested canceled. We started to panic. How would we get back to the hotel? By the grace of God, a lone Uber driver somehow became available and delivered us home before he too headed home.
We hugged each other, called our family and friends in Austin and spent the rest of the evening watching the tragedy unfold from the safety of our hotel room.
Experiencing this worldwide tragedy firsthand will be something I never forget. But as someone born and raised in Austin, a town with a unique cultural identity of its own, it was the resiliency of the French and their willingness to disregard hate and continue to live life as fully and beautifully as ever that struck me to the core. Even as the next week progressed, people came out of their houses, played Pétanque on the Seine, drank wine in bistros and danced again. Those who were lost are mourned, but the spirit of this city will never be dimmed.
Austin Woman features a reader-submitted essay every month in the I Am Austin Woman column. To be considered for March’s I Am Austin Woman, email a 500-word submission on a topic of your choice by Feb. 1 to submissions@awmediainc.com with the subject line “I am Austin Woman.”
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