After Leon's we walked back home. We were jetlagged zombies with full bellies. We approached the apartment house and pushed the call button which we'd used earlier to gain entrance. The door remained locked. We called up to residents a floor above who could clearly us through their open windows. None responded. We waited for someone to enter the building. No one did.
We could call Madame Paugam, except we hadn't activated our Euro cellphone, we hadn't bought a card to operate the pay electronic phones -- and it was 11 p.m. and all the tabacs (local tobacco/lottery shops) were closed. I left the others at the front door and went in search of a tabac or something. I spent a half-hour scouring the neighborhood for a solution, then gave up. I returned to find Sandy and the others in the vestibule. A man had come up to the lock keypad, looked suspiciously at Sandy as if she were some burglar, and tried to dart quickly inside. She was too fast for him, though. Before the door could slam she hopped inside. I returned, we uneventfully went up and our first day in Paris ended, about 26 hours after we started the day in the almost-wide spot of Hamilton, Texas. We fell exhaustedly into bed.
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