The Trials and Tribulations of a Newbie in Paris (of which a song was never written
By Mike McCaffrey
We were stationed in Paris, 1976-78, as our first FS assignment. It appears to have started a series of "unusual" events that were to somehow find me as we moved along ...
DAY NUMBER ONE: Russ Leclair and I arrived in Paris at the same time. We were temporarily housed in the Van Loo Apartments until housing opened up on the Compound in Boulogne. There was an American secretary also in Van Loo at the time, and Shirley Epstein, the CCO, had left word that we were to meet up with the young lady (who was fluent in French) first thing the next morning, and she would show us the mechanics of catching the local buses that morning, with Metro directions to follow. We all boarded the bus and sat. The bus was full at that point. Just then, an older lady with two fairly large shopping bags got on the bus. She stood in the aisle; nobody moved. I could not let this happen, so I got up and asked the lady to please take my seat. Before I knew it, this older guy, highly agitated, began to pound on my back! Seems he was a “war hero” (little beret on his agitated head), and custom seemed to dictate that I should have given HIM my seat. Say what? The guy was lucky I didn’t tweak his nose. The lady kept the seat, and my glare, with bad intentions, convinced “the hero” to get away from me. The trials and tribulations of A NEWBIE in Paris!
THE PIPE: Though I can’t recall exactly whether someone in the CPU actually had one, or I got the crazy idea that this was THE appurtenance I NEEDED while stationed in the City of Light, but: Frank Morgan was taking a trip up to the PX in Brussels (we all used the PX and Commissary up there. Long trip, but they had “things American,” including BREAD that wouldn’t break the floor if dropped) and asked me if we needed anything, since we were totally new and hadn’t had even the chance to buy a car yet. D-uh! THE PIPE! How the heck it popped into my mind, I dunno, but it did. I had the vision of a MEERSHAUM with a lion’s head for the bowl. Frank, being the nice guy we all knew him to be, did get me that pipe. I was a non-smoker, but I thought it would be THE IMAGE one projected in Paris.
So there I was, on the Metro on my way to the Embassy. Busily puffing away (and perhaps turning green), thinking that was THE LOOK Parisians expected, when the guy next to me pointed to the NO SMOKING sign posted everywhere … I immediately doused that pipe and never gagged on it from that point on!
THE TANK: Again, being new to the post, we needed a car. A guy who worked “next door” had a Volkswagen/Porsche that he initially thought he wanted to ship back home, changed his mind at the last second, and knew I was looking for a car. He offered it to me at a very low price, since he was just about ready to depart post … I bought it. Snazzy little thing. Sooo … I drove it in on my first night on Swings. Having taken the Metro since we arrived at post, I was a bit fuzzy on the directions back to the compound where we lived, but figured it couldn’t be that big a deal, right? So, here it was: midnight. I got into that little thing and headed out. I turned the corner onto Place Concorde and came face/face with a HUGE TANK!!! It was the first in a very long line. The French military was conducting a full-scale Bastille Day rehearsal. If I had proceeded much further, I would not be relating this story today! That Gendarme was VERY unhappy with me! He gave me a stern lecture in rapid-fire French (didn’t understand a word!), and the tank driver emerged (spoke passable broken English) and redirected me in the direction that did get me back home.
Jogging: I took up running (jogging, really) while in Paris. I loved gasping and wheezing along the Seine, trying to look like I knew what I was doing. One morning, I went for a pretty fair distance from the Compound, down by the racetrack. Exhibiting my usual ungainly gait with my head slightly down, praying that my measly effort would not bring on the big heart attack, I heard a lot of commotion behind me. I turned my head and ... BRIGITTE BARDOT (!!!) was fast catching up to me, showing off her vastly superior form. Next to her, and as far as I could see, was this solid gaggle of cars, guys with their tongues hanging out and shouting and beeping horns. She came up side/side, flashed that outstanding BB smile, and said: "Bonjour, Monsieur!" I almost tripped and fell over my two suddenly tangled feet! BB kept moving along, taking half of Paris's male population with her, still honking and yelling. When I returned to our apartment, I excitedly told my wife about the vision I had seen. Her reply: "Yeah, yeah! Must have been lack of oxygen. Brigitte Bardot ... ha!" I knew then how Rodney Dangerfield used to feel.
Life in the Foreign Service, eh? I managed to survive Paris, and we went on to a superb family post in Bonn as our next stop. Did amusing little incidents follow? Of course, re: my obvious love of COBRAS in Delhi later on.
Wishing everyone the very best. It was my honor working with all of you over the intervening years