Paris

"Back home everyone said I didn't have any talent. They might be saying the same thing over here but it sounds better in French."
--Gene Kelly as Jerry Mulligan



Last week I made a snap decision to catch the Eurostar with my friend Aaron and spend the weekend in Paris. We were greeted by spectacular weather and after taking in the world's finest artwork at the Louvre, strolling down the Rue de Cler, visiting Napoleon's tomb, and pondering the brilliance of "The Thinker," we were finally on our way back to the hotel to pick up our things and wrap up a much needed break from the cloudy England weather. That's when the adventure began.

I had been looking all weekend for a specific bank that I could withdraw funds from and not pay the $5 fee. As we were nearing the Arc de Triumphe, Aaron noticed the ATM I had been looking for, and I quickly shoved in my card and entered my PIN. It was at this moment that the Americans at the ATM next to me warned me to watch out for three children that were lingering around--they were pickpockets. Thankful for the heads up, I quickly protected my man purse that contained in excess of $1000 in electronics. I asked them nicely to back off, and in response they proceeded to swarm on me, covering up the ATM screen as if trying to get me to purchase a magazine they were holding up. At first I wasn't too concerned. Being from Baltimore, I actually have a great deal of experience with all varieties of crime. In fact, the last time I was in Paris I remember watching as my mom performed a Chuck Norris Power Ranger round kick to bring down a failed pickpocket attempt by a young man that took my dad's wallet. Given the evolving nature of the situation, I followed rule #1: generate attention. In my USAFA freshman-hazing voice, I began yelling many things to the children in French. Unfortunately, my command of the language is a little weak, so the children didn't seem to get the picture when I sounded off: JE VOUDRAIS ALLER AU SALLE DE BAINS!!!!! (OK, it wasn't quite that bad but pretty close). At this point, I canceled out my transaction, grabbed my ATM card, and Aaron and I both evacuated the scene. It was just at this moment that three large men appeared and aggressively approached me, stating that these children had stolen my money. Being 100% certain that I had cancelled the ATM transaction and being absolutely convinced that these guys were part of the scam, I bolted. That's when things got confusing. Instead of letting me run (which is the textbook response that is taught to criminals in entry level courses) they pursued me. I ducked down into the Metro, thinking that my odds of finding a law enforcement professional or government worker to sound the alarm were greatest in this setting. They converged on me, threw me against the wall, whipped out their billy clubs and pointed at a concealed pistol. At the same time, they pulled out badges that were around their necks that said "Police" on them and looked very similar to the ones I saw recently at Walmart in the "5 and under" section. During the next 15 minutes, they proceeded to say things about the United States of America that are not fit to print on this blog. At this moment it was obvious that these guys were members of Al Qaeda... Or they were French... One of the men began making threats, saying that if I tried to go anywhere he would beat me Rodney King style. Several times I was threatened with an arrest. Obviously none of this behavior matched the kind of conduct I would expect from a law enforcement professional, particularly since I had done nothing but allegedly leaving behind some money at an ATM. Aaron immediately called one of our friends in London, got the number for the US Embassy, and we began to sort things out. It was obvious where things were headed. They were going to pull up in a car and ask us to get in and go to the station to file a report on the kids. Having a close friend who almost died after getting in a car after being held at gunpoint, I wasn't very enthusiastic about this option. As long as it was an obvious police vehicle driven by a uniformed officer, however, there was nothing to worry about. Right. So when an unmarked van showed up driven by a guy in civilian clothes with an eyebrow ring and smoking a cigarette, I wasn't exactly supremely confident that these guys were legit. We insisted on speaking with a uniformed officer, much to the disgust of the three men. Our friend at the Embassy began walking towards the scene, communicating with us on his cell. Finally, amidst some heated threats one of the men brought in some uniformed officers who assured us that everything was OK. After we got in the car, the driver (who I think was Captain Bezu Fache) peeled off down the Champs Elysses nearly colliding with another vehicle at several points during the journey. Evidently in Paris transporting two Americans and three ten-year-olds to the police station in order to spend the next 3 hours filling out paperwork qualifies as an emergency situation worthy of placing pedestrian lives at risk. We finally made it to the station, filed the report, and recovered the money. After missing our return train and rescheduling for several hours later, Aaron and I took time to thank God for protecting us. We also expressed our sincerest appreciation to the French officers who had helped bring these young criminals to justice. I'm guessing this was their first experience with the concept of gratitude, so hopefully next time we have to liberate their country from Germany they too will remember to say "Thanks!"