Stacie had been waiting a very long time to see the Eiffel Tower…
She had seen photographs, studied its construction and learned exactly how tall it was. She knew when it had been built, how many rivets it contained and why it grew slightly taller in hot weather. None of this prepared her for actually standing underneath it. It was enormous. It was beautiful. Stacie loved it immediately.
The humans were interesting too. There were hundreds of them, speaking different languages and taking photographs of absolutely everything. Stacie fitted right in. She took photographs of the tower. She took photographs of people taking photographs of the tower. She took a photograph of a pigeon because it was her first French pigeon.
It was some time before she noticed that people were also taking photographs of her.Stacie was delighted. Clearly this was another local custom. She posed beside the tower while a group of Japanese tourists photographed her from a safe distance. When she waved, several of them screamed. Stacie waved back more enthusiastically. They screamed again and ran away.
The French were less excitable. One man simply dropped his coffee. A woman grabbed both her children and hurried off. Someone called the police. Stacie noticed all of this, but couldn’t quite work out what had upset everybody. Perhaps tourists weren’t supposed to wave.
She decided it would be polite to keep to herself.
A few minutes later, a teenage girl approached her very slowly. She was trembling slightly, but she held out her phone and asked if she could have a photograph.
Stacie understood that perfectly.
Within ten minutes there was a queue.
By the time the police arrived, Stacie had posed for thirty-seven photographs, acquired two croissants and learned how to say bonjour. Someone had given her a tiny Eiffel Tower keyring. She had also gained several hundred followers on something called Instagram.
Stacie decided Paris was wonderful.
The police decided to wait for backup.
