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About Bordeaux

I paddle over, all casual-like, “Hey, what’s your deal?” She laughs, says, “Same as you—survivin’.” Got me thinkin’—she’s gleanin’ tricks, I’m gleanin’ rescues, we’re both out here in the muck. Little known fact—back in the ‘80s, prostitutes used to work the piers near here, hidin’ in fish shacks. True story! Cops’d roll up, they’d scatter like gulls. History’s wild, man.

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Then, outta nowhere, my buddy Marc shows up. He’s all like, “Dude, chill! Traffic was nuts!” I’m like, “Traffic? We’re in Thourotte, not Paris!” But whatever, we get to work. We’re spraying this anticorrosion stuff on some old metal beams near the canal. The view’s kinda nice, I guess. The Canal de l’Ourcq is right there, and the water’s sparkling. But I’m too busy trying not to get sprayed myself.

French court orders Saint-Gobain to pay compensation to Oise workers