My mother and I peered down the staircase and looked into the lobby. The paparazzi was still there, trying to get through the many lobby workers that were trying to block their way.
"Ready?" mom asked.
"As ready as I'll ever be," I replied back. We both had gotten into these ridiculous get ups, sort of like the disguises you see on TV: Floppy hats, tight fitting dresses, sunglasses, fake pearl necklaces, heels, hand bags, and of course, they were all in black. It was embarrassing and probably wouldn't work, but when I saw the shouting, pushing crowd, I was ready to try anything. Mom and I took our positions.
"Ready..."
"Set..."
"GO!"
We sashayed into the lobby. Everything was going well until we reached the paparazzi. As I remembered when I lived in Genovia, I could recall that they didn't have the best manners, so "excuse me" probably wasn't going to work. I looked over at my mom. She winked at me, and I knew that that meant to follow her lead. She dove into the crowd.
"Oh excuse me... How rude!" she said as she walked through the crowd. I got the idea, and joined in, chatting back and forth with her.
"Oh dear!"
"How impolite this crowd is!"
"It's much better in Paris."
"Oh yes, in Paris the paparazzi is much more polite."
After what seemed like an eternity, we finally made it out of the building and away from the paparazzi. Thankfully, no one was the wiser.