I never thought a chance encounter in France would lead to a greater appreciation of a Billy Joel song.

My wife Dee and I spent the final afternoon of our Tour de France trip drinking with other Sports Tour International clients in the courtyard of our Saint-Gérons hotel. As we swapped stories, another of our teammates, a boisterous, baldheaded Aussie named Chris, walked by looking a bit tipsy and holding a bottle of wine.

On the way back to the Hotel Eychenne, he and some other tour members came across the reunion of a local rugby team, which had turned into a raucous street party just blocks away from the city's quiet town square. Held in front of the home of a player named Jean-Louis, he and the other players were grabbing bystanders off the street and plying them wine and incredible food. When Jean-Louis realized some foreign cyclists were in their midst, he took them on a tour of his home, ending in his impressive wine cellar. Chris and the others were given some bottles as souvenirs of their trip to France and told to come back later, when the party would really get going.

After dinner, we tagged along as they walked back to the party. But by the time we arrived, the rowdy street party had turned into a slightly more intimate, but just as lively, affair.

After tackling some of the most celebrated roads and climbs of the Tour de France over the previous few days, a few of the group decided to gear down for an afternoon and discover some of the French countryside.

Starting from the town of Foix, we would travel south to Ax-les-Thermes, where we would later catch the finishing climb of that day's stage. I'd hoped to make it to the town early enough to tackle the Cat 1 climb myself, but 15 minutes into the ride, our Sports Tours International guide Ed informed me that was likely not going to happen. "Leisurely" would be the pace of the day.

Up to this point in the Tour, I'd been riding with a faster group of riders. On the first day, we were the de facto breakaway, speeding up the first col and away from the other riders. With our group established, we'd spent the last few days sniffing each other out on the roads, determining a pecking order – Who was the fastest? Who was the strongest on the climbs? Who went out like a rocket, but fizzled by the end? Who was a bit squirrely in the pack?

But today would be different. The group I would be riding with had nothing to prove; they just wanted to ride bikes, take in the sights and enjoy a spectacular race. Every few kilometers I would stop, pull out my camera and snap a few photographs of the beautiful mountains and meadows, something I never could have done with the other group, unless I wanted to make my way back solo.

When thinking of iconic Tour de France climbs, three mountains immediately spring to mind – Alp d'Huez, Col d' Tourmalet and Mont Ventoux.

Every year, hundreds of thousands of riders flock to France to test their mettle against those three mountains and the ghosts of Tour riders past. On Bastille Day, July 14, the pro riders will race up Mont Ventoux during stage 15 of the Tour. Ten days earlier, it was my turn.

When I learned I would be climbing Ventoux during my trip, I was immediately intimidated. Although it's considered to be in the Alps, Ventoux is far enough removed from the mountain range that it stands virtually alone on the horizon, rising nearly 2,000 meters from the ground. The steep climb has humbled better cyclists than me; riders have actually died attempting to reach the summit.

Days before the ride, Keith, one of my Sports Tour International teammates, recounted the two nonstop hours of pain and suffering he'd experienced on the mountain years earlier, calling it the hardest thing he's ever done as a cyclist. The night before the Ventoux ride, his words continued to ring in my ears as I tried to fall asleep, with little success.

When I told many of my friends and family I was riding some of the Tour de France routes, they automatically assumed I would be participating in the race. As nice as that would be, I would be shelled off the back of the pack before the Tour had left the start village.

Although I've occasionally dreamed of joining the pro peleton and perhaps donning the maillot jaune – the yellow jersey of the Tour de France leader – pro riders are on a whole other level than average cyclists like me.

So you've promised all your friends and family you'd bring them back souvenirs from your Tour de France trip. Although buying everyone a €20 T-shirt will help solve the lingering effects of the European financial crisis, it's also going to put a bigger dent in your bank statement than those $1,300 plane tickets to France.

Before the start of each stage, a massive convoy of vehicles called the publicity caravan travels the day's stage route. Imagine a massive carnival on wheels, filled with water-spraying acrobats, comically oversized plaster bike riders and lots of students throwing out free candy, hats, laundry detergent and more to the fans waiting for the race action to begin. Depending on the number of stages you see, you could easily fill an extra carry-on bag with the trinkets.

The cyclists get the glory, but it's the fans who make the Tour de France arguably the world's greatest race. During my recent trip, I was able to experience this firsthand.

Starting from our hotel in Nice, our group of riders wanted to ride the 75 kilometers to the village of Fayence, where the professional riders were scheduled to pass through around 4:30 p.m. (Race organizers use the difficulty of the terrain and the average race speed to make their estimations.)

The first 10 kilometers were mostly on a well-traveled bike path leading past the airport and out of the city. For most of that leg, we fell in behind a well-dressed young French woman, probably riding to work. The scene might have been humorous to drivers passing by: a woman in a skirt, pedaling a casual townie bike, leading out a dozen or so "serious" riders in full kit and helmets.

Arriving in Cagnes-sur-Mer, workers had just closed the race route to automobile traffic, leaving the roads open for the next few hours to spectators and cyclotourists. The next few hours would become some of the most treasured memories I'll take away from this trip.

Located just outside of Nice, the Col d'Eze is a misnomer; there is very little easy about this climb.

Even some professional riders have trouble with the climb, the showcase peak of the famous early season Paris-Nice race and a favorite training ground for professional riders living in the area. The 500-meter mountain averages about a 7 percent grade at its beginning, levels out a bit for couple of kilometers, then shifts upward to an 8 or 9 percent grade at the 5.5 kilometer mark. The next two kilometers alternate between grades of 4 and 7 percent, before evening out at the end. It's 10 kilometers of torture.

When I tackled the Col d/Eze, it was the first ride with my new Sports Tours International teammates for the week, and it immediately reminded me of a fact that I was reluctant to acknowledge: I'm not remotely fit enough for this trip a the moment.

Serious cyclists tend to watch their figures closer than the most OCD supermodel. After dropping more than 40 pounds two years ago to begin my amateur racing campaign, I've been pretty good about monitoring my calories ... until this year. I've found myself racing less and drinking more beer, an equation that spells disaster for any rider. Every pound I've gained means yet another pound I'm carrying up with me on the bike. I'm carrying the equivalent of twins – or twin kegs, at least – around my waist.

I'm from Indiana. We have hills there. Steep, occasionally. Long, rarely. I've climbed mountains on either American coast before, but nothing like this one. I've never been afraid when the road turns upward, but as I stared at the nine-percent grade stretching out into the unknown and tried clicking to a gear I didn't have left, I felt my stomach knot up slightly.

Nice, the resort oasis in the south of France, may be best known for the intense, steel-blue of the Mediterranean Sea, but for a few days this July, yellow was the color of note.

We arrived in Nice less than 24 hours before nearly 200 of the world's best bike riders took over 25 kilometers of the city's streets. The Tour de France is more than a sporting event for the French people; it's a nearly month-long national holiday and point of immense national pride in France.

Just how popular is the race? Last year, nearly 20 percent of the French people lined the roads to catch a glimpse of the peleton screaming past. Although it's been nearly 30 years since the last French champion, five-time winner Bernard Hinault -- a fact that gnaws at the collective French psyche like bad red wine -- it doesn't diminish their love of the event.

Leading up to the race, Nice was awash in yellow -- the jersey color signifying the Tour's leader -- as seemingly every other person wore a hat, T-shirt, or other article of clothing dug from the back of their closet matching the distinctive hue. Tour talk dominated conversation, both among the French and the thousands of cyclotourists who swarmed into the city to catch the action.

Alec Baldwin and other gadget-addicted fliers may be getting some good news later this year, as the Federal Aviation Administration will likely reverse its ban on using most portable electronic devices during takeoff and landing.

An advisory panel of government and industry experts will issue its recommendation to end the ban in September, according to Wall Street Journal reporter Andy Pasztor, who obtained a draft of the study. The move comes just months after reports the FAA was being heavily pressured by both consumers and Congress.

The panel was recently given a two-month extension by the FAA to further study potential safety ramifications of eliminating the ban, which has been in place since the 1960s.

While the use of laptop computers and tablets will likely be allowed during low altitudes, the current ban on cell phone calls will likely remain in effect.

The FAA "recognizes consumers are intensely interested in the use of personal electronics aboard aircraft," an agency spokesperson told Pasztor, "that is why we tasked a government-industry group to examine the safety issues and the feasibility of changing the current restrictions."

The proposed move comes months after Sen. Claire McCaskill (D-Mo.) threatened to introduce a bill eliminating the ban if the FAA failed to do it on its own.

"It's good to see the FAA may be on the verge of acknowledging what the traveling public has suspected for years-that current rules are arbitrary and lack real justification," McCaskill said in a statement shortly after the news leaked. "In the meantime, I'll continue my effort to have these regulations rigorously examined until scientific evidence has been presented to justify them, or the rules are altered."

Earlier this year, the DePaul University Chaddick Institute for Metropolitan Development estimated the electronic device ban costs U.S. industry more than 105 million hours of productivity annually.

Not content to save airline passengers from bottles of hand lotion larger than an ounce and Chewbacca's light-saber walking stick, one TSA agent reportedly took it upon himself to criticize a 15-year-old girl for an outfit he deemed too revealing.

The teen girl was traveling with a group of other high school students on a college tour when she came up to the Homeland Security agent checking IDs and boarding passes. The agent reportedly glared at the girl, telling her moments later, "You're only 15, cover yourself!" in a "hostile tone."

That might have been the end of the story if not for two things. First, the shaken girl immediately texted her parents about the embarrassing situation. Second, one of those parents happens to be Boing Boing founder Mark Frauenfelder.

So what was the teen girl wearing that was so scandalous? A pair of black pants topped by a camisole and a long-sleeve flannel shirt, according to a cellphone photo later tweeted by the elder Frauenfelder.

Although the girl's outfit doesn't appear to be revealing at all, Frauenfelder wrote in a subsequent blog post that, "it doesn't matter what she was wearing, though, because it's none of (the TSA agent's) business to tell girls what they should or should not wear. His creepy thoughts are his own problem, and he shouldn't use his position of authority as an excuse to humiliate a girl and blame her for his sick attitude."

As the sartorial controversy began to sweep across the web – A is For's Maureen Herman and Jezebel's Madeleine Davies jumped on the story as well – the TSA released a statement saying it was "thoroughly reviewing the circumstances behind" the younger Frauenfelder's "unpleasant experience."