In less than 24 hours, I am going to embark on the journey of a lifetime. It’s an all expenses paid trip to France.

I will fly first class “La Premiere” on Air France direct from San Francisco. We’re booked at the Hotel de Crillon, one of Paris’ three great hotels - the other two being the Plaza Athénée and the Ritz.

I’ll add nine Michelin stars to the 30 I already have, by dining at Alain Ducasse at the Plaza Athénée, Arpége Maison de Cuisine, and L'Ambroisie.

The trip culminates with VIP tickets to Versaille’s Grand Bal Masque or The Grand Masked Ball of Versaille.

How am I able to do this and who is paying for it? That, I cannot tell you. I have been sworn to secrecy about the identity of my benefactor. Nor can I say what any of this costs. Nor can I say who went with me. But I can tell you about the experience, what I ate and what I saw, how I felt and how that changed me.

The itinerary is as follows: Five days in Paris at the Crillon. Then three nights in Versailles for the Grand Ball. Then back to Paris for another four nights. Then a weekend in Stockholm to visit my Swedish sister - more on that later. And then back to France for a road trip to the Loire.

All in all, three weeks - the longest vacation I have ever taken.

So far, the best part of planning has been the costume. You can’t get into the masked ball unless you look the part. So, they commissioned a costume designer to make a custom 1700s era costume according to my size and specifications. The costume designer was a rather eccentric woman who has worked for the SF Opera and other theater companies around the bay area, and she relished the challenge.

In August of 2018, she presented me with pictures of period costumes from roughly 1650 to 1800. I got to choose the style of waistcoat and vest I wanted. It ended up being very recent, something from 1790 or so.

Fabric is everything in a costume. The fabric the designer chose was a drab brown gabardine. That simply wouldn’t do because I was attending court at Versailles at the end of the reign of Louis XVI! I needed to look fabulous.

So, I went down to Discount Fabrics and found something befitting the court. For my overcoat I chose a deep crimson spun silk. Then, for the waist coat, I chose a yellow silk which had red flowers running through it like a vine. They complimented each other perfectly.

The designer agreed, and then suggested that we line the overcoat with the yellow fabric so that when you open it up, all you see is yellow silk and red flowers. Then, she said she would buy extra yellow silk, and cut out the flowers to make the buttons on the overcoat. A shiver of excitement went down my spine.

The costume includes a shirt with poofy sleeves, even though you don’t see the sleeves with the jacket on. Also there are knee length wool breeches with a button flap on the front - no zippers in the eighteenth century - and suspenders. I’ll wear white knee high stockings and my black double monk strap shoes I got at Cole Haan two years ago, that apparently haven’t gone out of style since the French Revolution.

Authenticity has been key. When I asked if the crotch of my breeches could be taken in, Barbara said she left it loose intentionally because they rode horses back then and needed the extra room to straddle the saddle. And, when I noted that we aren’t even going to see the poofy sleeves on the shirt - couldn’t I get something that was cooler? I was overruled.

That was back in January. The costume was completed two weeks ago and turned out perfectly. When I tried it on, I realized I looked like a Revolutionary, not a member of court. “How fitting,” I thought to myself as I regarded my reflection in the mirror, “that I am the guy partying at Versailles who knows the reign of Louis XVI is all going to end. And not end well.”

It’s now June 13th, the night before I take off and I’m still packing.

What to wear? How does one pack for Michelin Star dining in Paris, and boat rides in Stockholm? Traipsing around chateaux in the Loire and long walks along the Seine? And the ballet? Also, I plan to keep my running routine up. What more fun place to run than Paris?

Better get to it. Car comes to pick me at a rather civilized 11AM tomorrow morning. I can’t wait.