Into town with the Luton van, to a little restaurant opposite Bercy Arena, and the local cops are going mental nowadays. They’re all very excited about having the limpicks happen, but I had a right shouting match with one of them after I perforce drove through a no entry sign. Once you’re through the barricade, signs and lights no longer have meaning. We all know that. We are all driving in bus lanes and on the wrong side within the closures. We had no choice but to do it, road was closed anyway. She didn’t like it one bit though. Ran after me and a panting monologue through my window. She wanted to confiscate my driving licence, but thankfully some idiot gendarme already has it and besides the road was closed, and I was supposed to be there and she can go fuck herself.
I think she was off duty, and very possibly not actually working on the games. It was all very hectic and sudden and I was just doing what I needed to do. In plain clothes, at my window with a badge, talking twenty to the dozen. I tried telling her I had all that papers I needed, she said she didn’t care. Didn’t check my accreditation. “I don’t care about your accreditation, you drove through a red circle with a white line.” “Yes, yes I did and I do it every day and I’ll do it tomorrow. Look at all the other vehicles that have done this?”
For a pretty authentic looking badge I might write her off as a local lunatic. I turned the van round and she fucked off to block my route out with ped barriers. While she was fucking around I opened the back and slung in the podiums and a whole pile of rubbish and if her job was to stop me doing my job she’s fucked it. Then I drove up and moved the ped barrier, took the van through, parked it next to another unloading vehicle and walked back to replace the barrier. Saw her haring towards me.
The more I think about it the more I’m convinced she was off duty, maybe not even from the area, getting stuck in when she literally didn’t have a fucking clue. About my age but short and built. Glasses and close cropped white hair. Tattoos to the shoulders but not the arms, but she’s wearing a crop top so they’re poking out. Talks threats at high speed and doesn’t act on them. On holiday from small town France to the big Olympics. P’tit QuinQuin, used to being the great I am, likes giving orders to large men in large vans. Bucket list.
I’m gonna watch a bit of extremely healthy people running while my room cools down. Then to bed and another early start.
AlBarclay 