'Le Tour' at Toulouse

The day we arrived in Toulouse the Tour de France was hurtling towards the city. In the hour and a half it took us to cruise the last 5 kilometres and negotiate the 3 locks to the port the cyclists were about 60 km closer.
We have seen the Tour before. Some years ago we were lucky enough to be in Paris for the finish which was exciting - the atmosphere that is. Despite positioning ourselves early, where we thought we'd see plenty of the action, by the time the cyclists appeared the crowds were so thick and comprised of apparent giants that we felt lucky to glimpse the top of a helmet or the flash of a leg. I say we but one of us gave up and repaired to a bar to watch all the action on tv. The best thing about the day was that the roads all remained closed for hours after the race finished and it was quite magical strolling around a Paris bereft of traffic.
Having learned from our previous experience, this time we decided not to try and watch from the finishing line. Instead, we walked a few hundred metres along the canal from our boat and joined the spectators lining the route where it crossed the bridge. Great view, people one or two deep, everyone could see. The busiest and rowdiest spot was across the road at the Irish pub (The Danu - although it seems to be calling itself an English pub at the moment). The gendarmes (loads out all over the city + army) kept trying to calm down the over-exuberant and over-refreshed young lads balancing between the outdoor tables and the railings fearing, I suppose they'd cause an international, televised incident by tumbling in front of the riders but they ignored them. Fortunately for everyone they managed to stay upright.
We had, we guessed, about 20 minutes to wait for the riders. During that time there were loads of  team cars and motorcyclists who all seemed pretty excited to be part of the entourage, hooting horns and waving as they sped past. Helicopters clattering overhead signalled the cyclists' imminent arrival and finally motorcyclists with flashing lights. The crowds a few hundred metres up the slight hill began cheering, the riders appeared round the bend and then there they were! A colourful bolt of pure energy swept past just metres away sweeping up the spectators into a Mexican wave of excitement. The lads on the tables opposite could barely contain themselves. Everyone (us included) cheering and clapping and roaring encouragement. In moments they were gone. Even the stragglers were only seconds behind.
The gendarmes opened up the barriers and we were allowed to cross the road. So, we strolled across to the Irish pub for a well earned pint of beer.