The Gnome in the Sky - Part 2/2

Paris, France
Date: May 7, 1889
Location: “The Flying Fish”, Wuppertal Co. Zeppelin (Airborne)

Journal Entry ~ May 7th, 1889

After a long hard days work, fueled by the stupefied and wonder filled expressions of strangers, it is nice to be back in the quiet of my quarters. Well, technically there is always the humming of the airship’s mechanisms, the variety of hissing sounds made by steam, and the groaning creeks that remind me that staying in the air is much like walking the fine line of a tightrope.

The Eiffel Tower is currently lit up, like they do every evening, with the light of hundreds of clockwork lamps protected by opal glass cases. A tricolour beacon, housed in the campanile, just finished sending out three signals of blue, white, and red light over Paris (using two mobile projectors mounted on a circular rail at the top). I can also practically wave to the crew preparing the cannon placed at the top for firing the announcement for opening and closing the Exposition each day.

Tomorrow the dirigible will be staying inside the docking hangar due to forecasted weather conditions. I am excited because that means instead of working, aside from the usual inspections first, I will get to venture out into the exposition with my adoring father for company and escort. There are all sorts of boutiques and restaurants opened up on the monument that I’ve been wanting to visit. And I have constructed a well formulated stratagem for how best to use our time to maximize seeing as much of the exhibits on the grounds as possible; factoring in the difference between our preferences.

My father also added to my sweet anticipation by offering to take us to one of the fancy restaurants on the first floor of the Eiffel Tower. I am presently unsure which to choose, for I know not how many opportunities we will have to eat out. Each one is built in a different style: A true Muscovite-style Russian restaurant, an Anglo-American bar consisting of a large room with a bar in the middle following the British and American trends, a French restaurant with a façade reminiscent of a gazebo with a green trellis on a white backdrop, (Situated on the platform facing the Ecole Militaire, it consists of a group of suites and exhibition rooms in the style of Louis XV),
and a Flemish restaurant. At least that is what the brochure I have says about them. Perhaps when I see them in person my stomach, partnering with my five senses, will make the right choice on which to try.

On the second floor of the Eiffel Tower, Le Figaro set up a printing works and is producing a special edition of the daily newspaper on-site every day. Visitors who bought the newspaper can get their name put in it to "certify" that they had climbed the Tower. The newspaper’s cover illustration shows the Barber of Seville sitting astride the Eiffel Tower. I briefly paused my writing to look at the picture frame on the wall that houses my copy of the print, signed by Le Figaro himself and has my father’s and my name in it. It was a gift from my father when we went there before the exposition opened to the public. It truly was an accomplishment I will cherish. We had to help one another to make it up all those steps. It took the better part of a day to do it, and we were sore for days afterwards, but it was worth it.

I am suddenly distracted as Gustave Eiffel emerges from his office at the top of the Eiffel Tower. Having succeeded in his architectural feat, he now gets to bask in the ceaseless praise of important visitors and breathtaking panorama views. His office is truly quite something special. Notably he welcomed Thomas Edison there at the start of the exposition, I was told, who offered him his famous "spectacle" class M type Phonograph. We got to see the terrific scientific masterpiece when he invited our President and chief of staff to a private dinner in his office.

Now it is time to start my nighttime routine so that I may get to bed on time. I feel that it will be difficult falling asleep with all the ideas and projections about tomorrow circulating in my head. I can hardly wait.