I got Renaldo to drive me to the airport and caught an American Airlines overnight flight to Paris. As you might imagine there was a hassle at immigration about unaccompanied feline, and an even bigger one at customs about my gun. There was a whole lot of people coming in and out looking at my PI license, the gun permit, etc - whispering in French as if I could understand, telephone calls. All I could make out wass "D'accord." Anyway by the time they let me through, with my gun, the limo driver had given up on me and I had to take a taxi to the Hotel des Chats in Boulogne. What a dump! Seemed like the last tenant had sprayed a lot. That and it reeked of lysol. I openeed the window and put on the fan. All night there was a racket from the pool hall down the alley, garbage trucks every hour it seemed. Cats in heat. City of light? City of love? Give me Miami Beach, Bud.
In the morning, which for me was 8pm local time, still light out, I headed over to meet up with my confidential informant. Another no show. So here I am, not speaking French, having no way of contacting anyone, trying to get an angle on an international conspiracy involving newspaper publishing. I was standing on the corner (just in the foreground of the photo), debating whether to get something to eat, go back to sleep, or what, but minding my P's and Q's, when I hear tires squealing around the corner from behind me and I know that's bad news, even if not intended for me, so I jump for cover without even looking. Good thing 'cause some driveby fool let loose 20 rounds from a semiautomatic right in the vicinity where I'd been standing. I pulled out my piece and went to squeeze off a couple of rounds at the car but there were too many innocent bystanders.
Welcome to Paris.
1 comment:
Keep up the good work.
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