ou est jean?

There was a make-up shop on the Champs Elysses with balloons and streamers and a red-carpet out front. A sign overhead advertised "Une Soir Avec Jean Reno!!"

We had no idea who Jean was, but that didn't stop us from milling through the store with the rest of the excited crowd. "Jean?" We all murmured, tapping people on shoulders and looking each other up and down. "Jean Reno?"

It was on our third go-round that security finally informed everyone present that Jean had long since gone home.

Dejected, the rest of the crowd began to disperse. But we weren't budging until we saw….

"Jean!!!" We were still yelling half an hour later to the bemused doormen, "Ou est Jean? Je veux voir Jean!!"

A new crowd, their curiosity piqued by the red carpet and our high-volume demonstration, had gathered. Perhaps for the sake of a good laugh, the doormen hadn't bothered to let these ones know that Jean was long gone. We decided to provide additional entertainment to their night.

As the new crowd milled and murmured "Jean? Jean Reno?" our group sidled closer to the doorway. Preston and I guarded Dee-Dee as she slipped her jacket hood over her head, and Rose and Chastity took her by the arm.

Nonchalantly, Preston and I stepped aside as the two make-shift bodyguards broke from behind us and hustled the hooded form down the red carpet toward the street.

"C'est lui!!! C'est Jean!!!" Preston and I yelled, running behind them. "He's going to his car!!"

Apparently we had underestimated the popularity of the French actor, because a mob of people appeared from nowhere. Caught in the middle of the clamoring swarm, Preston and I joined hands and broke free into a nearby alley, where we tried to call a warning to our comrades. Blissfully unaware of their following, they had relaxed into a slow saunter down the sidewalk.

It was not until an ardent fan tapped "Jean" on the shoulder for an autograph that she turned around, saw the size of her fan base, and panicked. Abandoning the arms of Rose and Chastity, she took off in a sprint down le Champs, with the rest of us in hot pursuit.

The whole caravan was halfway to the Arc de Triomphe before Dee-Dee finally realized what would save her; in the distance, we saw the hood come off and a flash of blonde hair, and the crowd let up a collective groan.