cop shows

While I’m not exactly lonely, I am alone a lot of the time, so I do what I do at home: watch TV. Of course, the difference is that everything is in French—no English-speaking channels for moi—and my hope of being able to watch the Super Bowl has been dashed. C’est la vie (that’s the last pseudo-French phrase I’ll do in this blog, I promise).

Mostly the TV is on for friendly noise, but last night after a wonderful dinner at my colleague Rebecca’s fabulous apartment, sans view of la Tour Eiffel (okay, I lied about using French phrases), I couldn’t sleep, so I actually sat on my couch and watched some TV. Lots of cop shows. It could be the channels that I get, but I noticed the police dramas even the night before. My favorite so far is Alerte Cobra, which originated in Germany (I watched two episodes of this back-to-back). The main characters are a shortish, slim, grizzled, keep-his-wits-about-him older officer and the Ashton-Kutcher look alike whose height only adds to the contrast. The only thing I understood was Ashton continually yelling, “Quoi?” and the occasional ici or mais non, but I got the gist of the story. It is super interesting comparing Alerte Cobra with American buddy cop shows, but last night on my way home, my experience gave me a probably-not-accurate reason for the seeming prevalence of police dramas.

Pickpockets and scam artists galore. On the metro ride back to my apartment (and it was a major victory that I did not get lost once on the metro yesterday), I was approached three times for money. It could have been the suitcase I was dragging behind me or the fact that despite my boots, scarf, and gloves, I’m guessing I scream “American,” but three times in thirty minutes seems excessive even for a big city. The most memorable scam artist was the supposed English woman who began the conversation with, “Do you speak English?” and proceeded to explain to me—in halting English—that she, too, was from America and needed just a bit to get by.

I’m a nice person, or so I’ve been told. But all three times, requests were met with a steely glare (my inspiration came from my coaching days). Add to that the two times earlier in the day when I was approached—once was by four teenage girls who wanted me to sign something; a loud “No” and hand gesture (not the one you are thinking) had them doing a Red Sea impression—and I was a regular meanie. Maybe that explains the cop shows on French TV; at least for me they serve as a toughen-up primer.

I just turned on the TV…Law and Order in French.
http://www.alertecobra.info/