A couple years ago, I got the chance to go to Paris. It was last minute, and would be a quick trip.
The Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, the stores, the fashion. I was giddy thinking about it!
There was one catch: it would be a weekend trip, and I handle jet lag like a narcoleptic ninety-year old. I'm talking, out-like-a-light at 6 pm, can't even hang with the toddlers. Then like a resurrection miracle, fully awake and happily functioning (all alone) at 3:30 am.