Martha Terry experiences a few security snags on her first full day of the Paris Olympic experience, but discovers that even the event’s biggest players are not immune.
We’ve been in Paris for 24 hours and one thing that stands out is the stringency of the French security outfit. The equestrian venue at Versailles is protected by airport-style screening, no liquids over 100ml and frequent stopping and frisking with body scanners as you move around the site.
Most H&H readers will know the name Pierre le Goupil – the French cross-country course-designer for his home Olympics, fast becoming an icon in his motherland and throughout the eventing world. He’s spent seven of the past eight weeks at Versailles, visited 60 times in two years, but he has earned himself no special treatment. During a press course walk, he politely posed for photos sitting on a log at a water jump, resplendent with wildflowers and the ginormous arena stands towering above him. Very quickly a security guy in an orange tabard scurried over and reprimanded him.
“But this is my course, my fence,” Pierre smiled.
“Non, non, I don’t care who you are, you cannot sit on the fence,” said Monsieur Security.
“But I’m the boss, it’s fine,” said Pierre, pointing to his name on his pass.
“I am not joking, the rules are the rules,” he said, trying to manhandle Pierre off the log.
We all thought it was a staged joke, but it wasn’t and eventually Pierre removed himself: “I’ll tell your boss, you’re doing a great job!” he winked.
Not even the Versailles course-designer Pierre le Goupil is immune to the strict security checks
Paris Olympic experience: the magic pass
However long you’ve been an equestrian journalist (ahem, 20 years), being called up to report at your first Olympics elicits childish excitement. You tick off the days like you used to til Christmas. And then a flurry of “am I ready?”, “what do I wear?” (cue panicked online spree with extortionate next-day delivery on eve of departure), “will there be enough food?”. It really is very much like Christmas, except hotter, lasts a lot longer and is much more fun. But like Christmas, there are always a few spanners.
As this Olympic virgin is learning, you cannot do ANYTHING without your Olympic accreditation. Even with the magic pass – and a big name – as Pierre le Goupil illustrated, access is complicated. Without it, you can’t get into parts of central Paris, you have no right to the freebie travel card, you’re generally a persona non grata. I’d already been into London to pick up what I thought was my accreditation, but the final step required us to fathom the Paris transport system, without said travel card, to get into the main press centre for the all-important lamination.
After the best part of two hours’ queueing with other excitable press people – James Cracknell included – I presented my passport to be told my birthday was wrong. There is no quick fix to this. “Revenez demain”, with no assurance it would be sorted. Luckily H&H photographer Peter Nixon also apparently forgot his birthday, so we decided to wait it out sitting outside the press centre, with the powers-that-be dangling the slimmest of carrots that we might have security clearance by 10pm, six hours hence.
Sitting ducks that we were, India TV came along and interviewed both of us – with me inwardly panicking that my Olympics might be over before it had begun, and it was too late to bring in an alternate.
“Is this pretty much a home Olympics for you?” the presenter asked me.
“Oh yes,” I answered, live on air. “It only takes 35 min to get here and the climate is the same. But the French won’t like it at all if we win.” And proceeded to interview him on India’s chances in shooting and hockey (very good). I’m unused to answering rather than asking the questions.
I don’t think I did either Britain or H&H proud to an audience of 1.5 trillion. Mercifully Peter was far more eloquent.
Somehow security did clear us just as the press centre was locking up for the night, so we’ve spent a warm, sunny day flashing our passes, sussing out public transport, the truly fabulous Versailles venue and – naturally – the boulangerie. It has entailed marching 25km on foot, and a note to self to buy suncream in a 100ml bottle.
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You might also be interested in:
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