I had one of those wonderfully Parisian moments before heading to Friday night's opener of Euro 2016.
I was standing in a pile of trash outside my apartment building trying to wedge an empty wine bottle into a bursting recycling bin. Just at that moment, a woman exited the same building and stopped to stare at me.
None of the trash in Paris has been collected for days since all the garbage collectors are on strike. It's lining the streets and assaulting several senses simultaneously. This woman assumed I was a tourist opportunistically dumping my junk in her spot.
While she stood there trying to kill me with her eyes, I slipped around in the greasy pile saying, "Désolé" over and over again.
Welcome to Euro 2016! Every one of these things is an expensive gong show until it starts. The French have suffered a series of uniquely French problems in the lead-up, widespread strikes prime among them. Will the trains run? One hopes. Will the planes fly? Very possibly. Will the garbage be collected? Eventually, now that the government has hired private contractors.
When an irritated transport minister, Alain Vidalies, was asked if he thought images of a garbage-strewn Paris would hurt a proposed Olympic bid, he snapped, "I didn't see any hordes of rats on my way here."
Presumably because they're all knee-deep in a dumpster buffet.
Suffice to say that the French needed something to go off as planned. Thanks to the sublime individual skill of Dimitri Payet – a player you may not yet be very familiar with, but soon will be – they turned the story once it actually mattered.
Importantly, they got everyone to the Stade de France in Saint-Denis, about 10 kilometres from the city centre. Rumoured train disruptions did not materialize.
They shipped everyone into the stadium in an orderly fashion despite airport-style security. Most supporters took note of warnings to arrive early. The majority arrived hours before the 9 p.m. kickoff.
That meant everyone was in their seats once they began the opening ceremonies. Soccer manages to jam into 10 minutes what the Olympics takes an hour to do, but with similar jarring effect. This one had the usual satisfying combo of unfettered jingoism married to a hallucinogenic drug experience. They could really reduce the budget if they just handed out MDMA and asked everyone to imagine France a few moments.
Here were all the hits – can-can girls, bizarre shrubs, internationally renowned DJ David Guetta. Oh God, him again. Guetta popped out of his little booth like a weasel coming out of a birthday cake.
The problem with a DJ as a musical opener is that there isn't much he can do. Guetta swayed in place while hammering knobs with great authority. It's not exactly Springsteen, but the crowd seemed to enjoy it. Guetta, tournament MVP (most visible partygoer).
In retrospect, Euro 2016 will be said to have actually started with the anthem. In Toronto, we like to congratulate ourselves on a great anthem experience when games matter. The problem is that O Canada isn't a great singalong tune. Too slow and lacking in crescendos. Le Marseillaise? That's an anthem meant to be belted. The Stade de France is a gladiator arena – it contains and amplifies sound. We've all heard some anthems in our time. But seventy-odd thousand French men and women bellowing their own national song at peak volume is the sort of thing that makes you want to start digging trenches and invading the neighbours. There aren't many public experiences in life you'd call glorious. This was one of them.
After that greeting, how could the touted French team fail?
Well, it tried a number of things.
The players emerged onto the pitch as if they'd just been released after several hours in a very small room – running blindly in all directions. Their opponents, Romania, are known for purpose and cohesion. Romania almost stole a goal four minutes in on a bumbled corner kick. Instead, the shot was hammered into French goalkeeper Hugo Lloris as he fell back into his own net.
Generally, a home soccer crowd will get quiet after their team receives its first shot across the bows, and take a while to get back into it. This one did not flag. They'd paid about $3-billion to put this thing on. They were going to enjoy the party, regardless of what David Guetta or Romania had planned.
Much has been made in the lead-up about the quality of the French midfield, a dazzling five-man unit. Paul Pogba – a rumoured $170-million target of Real Madrid – was electric, but largely contained. Antoine Griezmann hit a pair of posts. N'Golo Kanté was a defensive bulwark and Blaise Matuidi occasionally sparkled in possession.
But it was Payet who established himself as the in-the-moment heir to Zinedine Zidane.
At 29, Payet is not young. He's not what you'd call a cultured player. Instead, he is an instinctive, disruptive force of gale strength. He has no real position. In the French set-up, he is permitted to roam the field at will, probing for a weakness. He found it again and again in a Romanian side that is one of the most effective defensive set-ups in the world.
Payet provided the pass that got the French their first goal off the head of Olivier Giroud, the world's most attractive traffic cone. Oh, the noise then, and the ominous quiet that followed a Romanian penalty kick seven minutes later.
The Romanians wanted the draw. They collapsed in on themselves near the end. It would have been unjust, but it seemed likely.
Then Payet appeared with a goal from nowhere, an 89th-minute left-footed strike taken just outside the box. It was hit so crisply, it might have scored on a net set up three blocks away from the stadium. And the sound the followed – you would have to have been here.
Payet was subbed off soon after scoring. He left the field in tears. It finished 2-1 for France.
"If someone had told me this would be happening a year ago, I would have said you're crazy," Payet said later, looking shell-shocked.
Countries go to an awful lot of trouble to put these events on. Too much, probably. At times, it must seem like wasted effort. Why do they do it?
Find the video of Payet's weeping departure. Watch it a couple of times. Notice the crowd behind him, on their feet to a man and woman.
That's why.