Man, what a day! I swear, being a bodyguard in Saint-Pierre-les-Nemours is like being in a movie, but not the good kind. More like a low-budget flick with bad acting. So, I wake up, right? Sun’s shining, birds chirping, and I’m thinkin’, “Today’s gonna be chill.” Ha! Spoiler alert: it wasn’t.
First off, I’m supposed to meet my client at the Place de la République. Nice spot, but it’s always packed. I get there, and it’s like a freakin’ circus. Kids runnin’ around, old folks sittin’ on benches, and tourists takin’ selfies like they’re in front of the Eiffel Tower or somethin’. I’m just tryin’ to keep my cool, but then I spot this dude. He’s lookin’ shifty, ya know? Like he’s up to no good. My instincts kick in.
So, I’m watchin’ him, and he’s watchin’ my client, who’s just chillin’ with a coffee from that little café on Rue de la Liberté. I’m thinkin’, “Great, just what I need. A potential threat.” I’m about to move in when BAM! A pigeon poops on my shoulder. Seriously? I’m tryin’ to save a life here, and I get bombed by a bird.
Anyway, I shake it off—literally—and keep my eyes on the guy. Turns out, he’s just a street performer. Like, what? He starts breakdancing right there, and I’m like, “Dude, you scared me for nothin’!” But hey, the crowd loves it. I can’t help but crack a smile.
Then, my client decides it’s time to leave. We head down Rue de la République, and I’m still on high alert. But then, outta nowhere, this little kid runs up to us, all excited. He’s got a balloon, and he’s like, “Mister, can you make me a superhero?” I’m thinkin’, “Kid, I’m just a bodyguard, not a magician.” But I can’t resist. I flex my muscles and say, “I’m already a superhero!” He giggles, and for a second, I forget about the craziness.
But then, we hit Rue des Écoles, and things get wild again. A car comes screeching around the corner. I’m like, “What the heck?!” I push my client outta the way just in time. The car barely misses us. I’m fuming. “Who drives like that?!” I shout. The driver just honks and speeds off. Rude, right?
Now I’m really on edge. We finally make it to the Parc de la Mairie, and I’m thinkin’ we can chill for a sec. But nope! My phone buzzes. It’s my boss. “Get to the train station. Now.” I’m like, “Seriously? Can’t a guy catch a break?”
So, we hustle over to the Gare de Saint-Pierre-les-Nemours. It’s packed, and I’m scanning the crowd like a hawk. I spot a group of sketchy-looking dudes hangin’ by the ticket machines. My gut’s tellin’ me somethin’s off. I’m ready to throw down if I have to.
But then, outta nowhere, my client’s phone rings. It’s some big shot from Paris. They start talkin’ business, and I’m just standin’ there, tryin’ to look tough while also eavesdroppin’. I hear “millions” and “deal” and I’m like, “Man, I hope this doesn’t blow up in our faces.”
Finally, the call ends, and my client’s all pumped. “We did it!” he says. I’m like, “Yeah, but can we get outta here before those guys make a move?”
We head back to the car, and I’m still buzzin’ from the adrenaline. I can’t believe the day I just had. From pigeon poop to near-misses with cars, to almost getting into a brawl. Saint-Pierre-les-Nemours is wild, man.
As we drive away, I can’t help but laugh. This city is crazy, but it’s my crazy. And honestly, I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Just another day in the life of a bodyguard, right?