Only in Paris

This is definitely an only in Paris story.

Last night while making our way in the light rain in a cab to dinner, we were stopped by police on Rue de Rivoli. Apparently the cabby was off his work clock, and really shouldn't have picked us up. After at least ten minutes --with the policemen scolding the cabby for working illegally, checking every bit of his paperwork, and the cabby pleading his case in vain-- it was decided that the passengers (read: my friend Matt and I) would have to get out and go fetch another taxi as this one was not in business of taking anyone anywhere that night.

One of the young policemen (in the rather handsome French police uniform) came over the my side of the cab (it was a van) and opened the sliding door to let me out to find another cab. Taking one look at me, in the little black dress and the Louboutins, he proclaimed out loud "ah this would not do". "I will find you a new taxi madame", he said, closing the door.

Half a minute later, yet another police came by, sliding the door ajar, and stuck his head in to talk to me. "Where are you heading to madame?", he asked. "We are going to be late for our dinner reservation", I replied quickly, adding "at the restaurant Pierre Gagnaire". A look of alarm took over his face, he lifted a finger up toward his face as if to say, just a minute, and closed the door.

He went back into the huddle outside with the other policemen and the cabby, and returned to speak to me after a minute or two. "It was decided, madame", he said in a serious tone, "that the taxi will take you to your destination, free of charge, since it was illegal for him to work at this hour". "Bon appétit madame, and please be sure to call the police station should he demand money from you", he said, shooting a menacing look toward the cabby. Just you try, it was loud and clear, just you try.

How can you not love the French? Only the French police would take one look at those dainty red soles and sympathetically pronounced them entirely unfit to face the harsh conditions outside. Only the French police would be mortified that their action might have caused me to miss my dinner reservation. And chez Pierre Gagnaire no less, quelle horreur!

As I said, how could you not love them?

Comments

[SamanthaF]

I stayed in the Marais area last week. My new favourite place;-). Sooo easy for Repaire de Cartouche!

[vijendra]

work

[Cara]

Yes, and I love your blog, Pim. Sorry it took me so long to come back.

Reading Murder in the Marais in the Marais...love it! Did Matt follow the map in front? I think I'll have to draw the map myself in the next one... Got any foodie recommendations you can share in the 18th arr.?

[Pim]

Oh My God you are Cara Black?

Ok here is where I geek out, Cara Black was on my blog!! How cool is that?

Your "Murder in the Bastille" was fun, and my friend Matt had a copy of your Murder in the Marais with him when we were in Paris last week with out friend Lynn. And the apartment we rented was in the Marais too.

How fun!

cheers,
Pim

[Cara]

Christian Louboutin red soled heels, right?
Hmm...my detective Aimée Leduc wears them, too in the next book Murder in Clichy.
Cara

[Aimee]

Great story! I found your blog through Jason Stone and I'm glad I did! I have had this kind of reaction from the police in France, when I was a student in eastern France, I had a policeman bend over backwards to help me out.

What kind of hat was he wearing? You can tell the difference Gendarme & Police...

[Pim]

L'Amerlogue, well whoever they were they wore those cutest little dark blue uniforms with somewhat tight pants --Gaultier design or something, was it?

The photo is here, by popular demand.

cheers all,
Pim

[Amy Alkon]

I found you through my friend, Jason Stone...great story. I'll be back! And I second the request for a photo of the Louboutins. I rented a place on the same street as his workshop for the past month of July, and I nearly passed out from shoe lust every time I walked home.

[L'Amerloque]

It most assuredly cannot have been a "gendarme".

Gendarmes do not work in Paris. They only work in the countryside and in designated towns and zones, where there are no "Police Nationale". The Gendarmes are military and report to the Ministère de la Défense.

The police who stopped you were either a) the Police Nationale, b) the Police Municipale (aka "Les Lustucru") or c) the Taxi Police, (aka "les Boers"). The Police Nationale report to the Ministère de l'Intérieur, while the Police Municipale report to the Mairie and the Taxi Police report to the Préfet.

Events such as you describe are certainly not confined to Paris. They can - and do - happen in encounters with the "forces de l'ordre" anywhere in France. They have a tremendous latitude and can act at their discretion, far more than members of the police in the USA or in the UK.

Taxi drivers in France, like truck/lorry drivers, are limited by law for safety reasons in the number of hours they can drive per day. It's a good system and ensures that passengers won't have an overtired driver, prone to mistakes.

L'Amerloque

[Andi]

lol.your story was fun.......love the French men,let alone a policeman.. to help a damsel in distress....((*))¿((*))
Show the beautiful dainty red shoes.voila.lol..
Lover of shoes.......oh yes!!!
Andi*

[Pim]

The shoes, by popular demand, is on the blog.

Pieman: no the gendarme didn't give me his number. He was on duty so but of course no giving of numbers possible.

And you don't understand Frenchmen, that was completely gratuitious flirting. Even with knowing that nothing would come of it, --like flriting with a pregnant lady or an 80 yr-old-- they simply couldn't stop themselves. It was in the blood.

;-)

[Cooking with Amy]

Reminds me of the first time I was in Paris and the garbage men were on strike--not for better wages but for couture uniforms!

[Viv]

Yes, shoes please! Red-soled or not I love them all! :-)

[Vanessa]

Yes, shoes please :)

v

[mckenzee]

Lovely story...
As another Bay-barian in Paris, I'm glad I found your blog.

You might like my parisian photos and stories at http://mckenzee.livejournal.com

[Max]

Yeah, we want to see the shoes :P

[London Chef]

Excellent story Pim! But those shoes? Surely you can post a photo for those of us who know not of which you speak. You have such marvelous adventures.

[Paul]

There is also an only in France aspect to this story. "since it was illegal for him to work at this hour" shows the French penchant for regulations. How many other places in the world can you imagine the police being worried about people working when they shouldn't be?

[Jeanne]

Aaaah, the French surely have their priorities right! Great story!

[azura]

great story. love it.

[pieman]

Was the gendarme dashing? Did he give you his number?

[Pim]

Of course we did, a big one in fact. It was half way across town and we felt rather sorry for him.

[Max]

Did you tip?

[Max]

On the other hand, last time I was there I saw a bunch of them harrassing a young intellectual-student looking type who was sitting in the gardens somewhere with a beer. They *searched* him. It was ludicrous. He was sitting there, reading Sartre or something. Isn't that what you're supposed to do? Is drinking outside really illegal there?