Day 0: a two-bit failure

It’s the day before departure. The suitcases are packed. I’m in my apartment, staring at the wall, lost in the whiteness of the paint, waiting for it to be time to leave. A hotel near the airport is waiting for me for the night.

To pass the time, I listen to podcasts: one about the equipment of knights in the 12th and 13th centuries, the other about artificial intelligence. Without really noticing, I move from medieval armor to modern algorithms. In the end, even before leaving my living room, I’m already traveling between tradition and modernity (sic).

On the AI side, it’s Mehdi Moussaïd who takes the microphone. A researcher specialized in crowd behavior, he talks about the impact of this new technology on research. He notably mentions an experiment involving doctors and artificial intelligences tasked with making medical diagnoses. Taken separately, the AI proves more effective than humans. But the most efficient solution turns out to be a collaboration between the two: a doctor and an AI, side by side. Honor is safe.

In the same podcast, he also talks about gold prospectors in the American West. Two types of behavior emerge: pioneers, who go digging where no one has ever set foot before, and followers, who choose to work the veins where gold has already been found. Surprisingly, over time, the most profitable strategy turns out to be that of the followers. Pioneers take greater risks for potentially spectacular rewards, but in the long run, it’s the followers who come out ahead. Of course, without pioneers to discover the gold, followers would have nothing to follow.

As for me, I’m more of a follower. Plenty of people have gone to Japan before me and come back delighted, so I know I’m not taking a huge risk by going there. It will definitely be an adventure — just not a leap into the complete unknown.

I finally arrive at the hotel. Settled into bed, I decide to chat with the AI. Since I’m not exactly a seasoned traveler when it comes to planes and airports, I ask for a few tips to make sure everything goes smoothly. In particular, I ask the crucial question: what time should I get to Charles de Gaulle if my flight departs at 12:30 p.m.? The answer: 9:30 a.m. I silently thank myself for asking, because I definitely wasn’t expecting to need that much of a head start.

8:30 a.m., departure day. Everything is going smoothly: I’m awake, operational, and most importantly, comfortably ahead of schedule to get to the airport.

In the elevator, I notice that a shuttle runs between the hotel and the airport for €4 — a ten-minute ride. But I know that a regular bus ticket only costs €2. And at that moment, I can’t help thinking of Scrooge McDuck. Now that was a true pioneer: leaving Scotland to make his fortune in America through sheer adventure… and well-timed savings.

A penny saved is a penny earned. For €2, I tell myself I can surely find a bus heading to the airport, not too far away on foot, and still arrive comfortably at the time recommended by the AI. I open my transport app and… BINGO: a stop about a twenty-minute walk away. Perfect.

So off I go, with 30 kilos split between my suitcase and my bags for this little adventure — just a warm-up before Japan. Except that, as any seasoned mountaineer would tell you, it’s usually wise to study the terrain before setting off.

There I am, literally on the road, with my 30 kilos of luggage… and Parisians on all kinds of motorized contraptions whizzing past me at full speed. This goes on for a good hundred meters before I finally reach a lifesaving sidewalk. Phew.

The relief is short-lived: I now have to cross the road. Thankfully, a crosswalk isn’t far away. Unfortunately, Parisians don’t have my kind of time. I’m forced to wait quite a while before a car — pioneering in its own way — finally stops to let me cross.

Once on the other side, I find myself a bit lost… and honestly annoyed. I can’t really see where I’m supposed to go. Or rather, I see the path perfectly well, but I desperately look for alternatives that simply don’t exist.

There’s only one possible route: a bridge with a height difference of about ten meters and, more importantly, a path barely fifty centimeters wide. Just enough for my suitcase — no more, no less.

At that point, turning back isn’t really an option anymore; going back would cost me too much time. So, so be it — I commit to the path and dedicate this short but epic ascent to Scrooge McDuck… and to Inoxtag, the mountaineer YouTuber, of course.

At the top of the bridge, already feeling like a better version of myself, I pull out my phone to find the rest of the route. In truth, the hardest part is behind me. The real issue now is time: the next bus is coming soon. So I pick up the pace.

The path is fairly smooth, and I reach the bus stop without incident. I have just enough time to buy a ticket. Once that’s done, I look up: the bus is arriving.

Doubt crosses my face — anxiety too. I don’t dare signal to the driver… but the bus stops on its own. I look at the display showing the destination. One word appears: PARIS.

The driver, a genuinely friendly guy, points me toward another bus stop not too far away that could get me to my destination. I thank him, wish him a good day… and quietly admit defeat.

So I decide to do what most people would have done a long time ago: I order an Uber.

Trying to be Scrooge — adventurous and rich — I end up as Donald instead: a follower, and poorer than I should have been.