Was a hot day in Nice. I had some down time before the flight back home and I decided to spend it walking the Promenade des Anglais. I have distinct memories of being there as a kid when I camped through Europe with my family back in the early ‘70s. An experience I later described in a 7th grade French class paper titled, “Nice is nice.” First topless beach as I recall, oh, ahem, and of course there is Old Town, the outdoor market and the Chateau ruins on top of the hill. Looks pretty much the same today through the eyes of a fifty year old as tit did in the eyes of an 11 year old. I mean IT, I meant to type “it did through the eyes of an 11 year old”…

Looks the same except for a stretch that starts by Children’s Hospital and runs along the pedestrian zone. It’s under construction. A year ago it was not. It was full of people enjoying Bastille Day celebrations when a truck, traveling close to 90 kilometers per hour drove right down the middle killing 86 and injuring 458. It’s hard to get you head around it. You might be temped to forget in an attempt to suppress the inhumanity of it all if not for the big cement barricades they are pouring and the presence of a very heavily armed police force. It scares the shit out of you.

I decide to snap a picture to try and capture the moment. Then I hear, “Allo, allo, some French, more French, French again, very animated French, louder French, MISTER!” I look up from my phone into the eyes of a serious, concerned, and very anxious policeman with his finger on the trigger of an AK.  I decide against trying to communicate using my limited high school French.

“English?” He asks, reaching for my phone. “American.” I don’t move. “Give to me.” He pauses so I do the same, then forcefully he demands, “Now!” He grabs my phone and immediately pulls up the photo and erases it. “Did you send?” Before I can answer he goes to my social media and email accounts Sent Boxes to check if I did. “And now I delete your deleted items in the delete file. OK.” A statement, not a question. He is thorough and carefully checks the phone for any other photos of police that I may have taken. I mumble apologies. “No one sees what we have. No one knows where we are. Ca va?” I have not moved a muscle the entire time, “Oui, ca va, je’regrette.” And with that he hands me my phone, turns and blends back into the scenery.

I tend not to rattle easily in foreign countries but this one gave me pause. In my neck of the woods you might push back if someone, anyone, grabs something of yours and starts issuing demands. And that was my initial instinct . But thankfully it occurred to me that if I had pushed back there would have been a very different outcome and I would not have been on the winning side.  Its crazy that this is the world in which we live.   I will say it takes some getting used to.

Still think Nice is nice->