An Illegal View From The Eiffel Tower

Moving to Paris, and being constrained to a wheelchair brought different challenges and perspectives to the typical “Paris Vacation”. One of our first challenges was buying a car. Knowing the car sales routine in the States, and not knowing a word of French except for a poorly pronounced “Bonjour”, I was not looking forward to this at all. Strangely enough it turned out to be a great experience. We wanted a car just big enough for the two of us, our dog, or another couple, with room for the wheelchair behind the back seat. We saw a Toyota Yaris (a car made specifically for the French market) in a shopping mall and my husband tested putting my wheelchair in as I tried the seats to see if they were comfortable. Lacking communication skills, we decided we’d give up on negotiating and go into the dealership with an offer just under the asking price, and be done with it. Two salespeople were assisting us and were obviously quite used to customers negotiating with a little more spirit. We offered our price, sat back and watched the two of them negotiate the price (between each other) lower and lower. Every time they tried to ask us something in French, and we truly didn’t understand, we’d look at each other puzzled, wondering if the other one had a clue what they were saying, so they thought we weren’t pleased with the price…and they’d lower it. They were both quite charming. By the time we closed the deal and picked up the car, they asked if we would let them escort us to a night out in Paris with a trip up the Eiffel Tower. I had fun telling our parents we were going out with friends. They asked if they from the office and I said, “Uh no, they’re our Toyota Sales Representatives.” My husband had been up the Eiffel Tower, but I had not. I wanted to see many of the Paris gardens, museums, do some shopping and had a long list of other places; but the Eiffel Tower wasn’t really on the list. Before going I started researching the history of the landmark and became more and more fascinated. I knew it was designed for the World’s Fair in 1889 and it was meant to be temporary. I also knew it was thought to be an eyesore by many Parisians, and caused great controversy. I did not know Eiffel also designed the inside of the Statue of Liberty, a gift to the U.S. from France, in fact, if you removed the arm of our Lady Liberty the inside is somewhat similar to the Tower. I also learned that when Germany invaded France, they wanted to hang the Nazi flag from the top but the French people disabled the elevators, so they had to walk up the stairs. Hitler refused to walk up the stairs and took a rather somber picture instead standing in front of the Tower. When France was liberated the French ran up the stairs of the Tower and unfurled the French flag so the people in Paris could look up and see their own flag flying. On the night we arrived there was barely a line as it was a cold winter evening; but if there is a line, go find a staff person to let them know you’re disabled and you (and your companion) will be brought to the front. First stop was the second level of the Tower, where there is an excellent restaurant, wheelchair accessible restrooms, and a nice view. At this level you have to change elevators to go to the top. We all went into the next elevator and the operator said something to me I didn’t understand. I thought he was saying it was too crowded for the wheelchair so I stood up with my cane and my husband folded the chair. He kept wagging his finger and speaking very quickly. My husband rolled the wheelchair off, saying he would bring it up next. The operator was still upset and raised his voice. Our hosts were now arguing back and I didn’t know what to do or say. I said I’d get off but now all of the people on the elevator were arguing with the operator and the French people on with me told me to stay put. I was considering getting down on my hands and knees and crawling out while they argued. Finally, the operator threw up his hands, yelled something (with a final “phewf”) and just left. I was uncomfortable causing this kind of commotion, but everyone else seemed quite comfortable. A different man finally came to the elevator, looking very uneasy and took us up to the top. Once we got there our hosts explained to me that the man was saying disabled people weren’t allowed to go to the top in case the elevator broke. I completely understood this policy but as I looked around I doubted many the elderly people or children would be able to walk down either. It took a couple of minutes for me to stop feeling badly about the whole scene but I decided if I had “snuck through” I would enjoy it, as it might be my last opportunity. I was immediately drawn to the wax figure of Eiffel in a small glass office. My fascination came from a misspent youth watching too many Vincent Prince movies Seeing Paris glowing in holiday lights was stunning. Our new friends pointed out all of the landmarks and I was touched by their excitement and pride in their city. It was a wonderful introduction to Paris and right or wrong I was grateful that the others on the elevator had fought for my right to go to the top. The warmth of the people that surrounded us that evening moved me and long after I leave France I will remember them and I will remember Paris at night, in all her holiday finery. Oh and by the way, later that evening, my husband mentioned he “accidentally” ran over the toes of the elevator operator with my wheelchair. Oops! Copyright © Lara Rogers