So picture this: me and Anton, two sleep deprived blokes, taking the ferry from Newhaven over to France. We’re both half zombies at this point, just trying to survive the 4am journey with minimal social interaction, maybe sip some questionable coffee, and not die of boredom.
Then it happened.
I’m staring out at the water, contemplating life, capitalism, and whether the ferry has life jackets for the inevitable Titanic moment I always imagine. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot this guy with that “I’ve seen some shit” expression… it hits me like a badly thrown croissant.
French John McClane.
Yeah, I said it. I had to triple-check, but there he was.
I ran to Anton like, “Mate, I’ve just seen French John McClane.” I’m not sure if Anton thought I was delirious from the ferry fumes or just off my rocker, but he humored me. I mean, could you imagine Die Hard on a ferry? Forget Nakatomi Plaza, let’s take this action-thriller to the middle of the Channel.
Cue the scene: terrorists take over the ferry, holding the croissants and beef bourgeon hostage. French McClane, let’s call him Jean McClane, casually flicks a Gitanes cigarette, mutters something poetic and existential (because he’s French), and then starts taking them down one by one. Explosions? Yes. Lifeboats dangling off the side? Of course. And me and Anton, just trying to figure out if we’re in a low-budget Die Hard sequel or if I really need to lay off the ferry coffee.
By the end of the trip, I wasn’t entirely sure if Jean was just a regular French bloke trying to enjoy his morning, or if I’d truly witnessed a hero in action.
But one thing was for sure – Die Hard would totally work on a ferry, and I’d 100% watch that.
