The real adventure occurred when I came down from this awesome spectacle of 19th century engineering.  While trying to take a picture of the underbelly of this monster, a Frenchman (who the guy in my office swears couldn't actually be a French native) tried to steal my backpack.  It was on the ground so it must have looked like an easy target for him.  He didn't count on the fact that I was not the typical white sneaker wearing American tourist.  The bag was hooked around my leg.  As he tried to get it, I felt a tug at my leg.  Instinctively, I swung around and *WHAM* popped him in the head.  Before I knew what happened, Eiffel Tower security came up and whisked the guy away without a word.  The would-be thief probably got a severe tounge-lashing from his in-cahoots friend over getting his clock cleaned.  I don't actually know that they were in on it together, but it would seem to me that the guy should have been led away in handcuffs or something.  Instead he was just taken away with his arm pulled behind his back in a semi-painful manner.

When I was leaving on this trip, I declared that I had two things that must be accomplished.  Spitting on the Eiffel Tower felt very satisfying after my little adventure and satisfied the first item of business.  The gum marks the spot on the western base where I let it fly.