Protector app gave me a taste of the celebrity life — it ended with a visit to NYPD
Fame is not for the faint of heart.
I found that out this week when I got a taste of the celebrity life thanks to the armed bodyguards who followed me and a pal around wherever we went — and protected us from suspected “paparazzi” in a wild, Hollywood-style chase through Gotham.
On Wednesday night, my friend Savannah Larson and I decided to go out for a drink or two — and give a test drive to the on-demand private security app called Protector that I wrote about last week.
Clad in “tactical casual” attire of jeans and slim-fitting black windbreakers, the trio of ex-NYPD officers –our bodyguards Chris, Taylor and George — showed up at 9 p.m. to our meeting spot in Times Square to embark on a carefree girl’s night out.
As Savannah and I locked arms and started to strut through Times Square, Taylor walked in front of us; George, behind us, and Chris, ready to move between our left and right sides.
They made navigating crowded city streets a breeze — ‘gently’ pushing aside anyone in our path.
“Yo…who’s that?” we overheard one gawker wonder as Taylor, 33, lightly nudged him outside the Times Square subway stop.
We sent the drivers of the two black SUVs the Protectors brought to chauffeur us around to wait at the Bushwick bar we were heading to, opting to take the subway alongside our bodyguards instead.
The NYC subway system has never felt safer.
Chris, Taylor and George surrounded Savannah and I on board a southbound “N” train to Union Square station, then a Brooklyn-bound L to Jefferson Street.
“I’ve got eyes on this one,” George, 43, said when the subway car doors opened briefly to reveal a disheveled woman flailing on the ground of one subway platform.
Once in Bushwick, we walked to the bar Carousel on Wyckoff Avenue, where Savannah and I leisurely sipped wine while the our guards — all armed with semi-automatic pistols — waited outside on the sidewalk.
When we were ready to go, the trio escorted us into one of the two black SUVs parked on the corner, and we started heading back to Savannah’s apartment in Greenwich Village.
Little did we know, the “paparazzi” were ready to pounce.
As our SUV turned a corner close to Washington Square Park, Chris, who was sitting in the passenger seat, turned to look at Taylor in the seat behind him.
“Keep eyes on this guy behind us. He’s been following us for a few blocks,” Chris said, and instructed the driver, Julian, to take a last-second right turn, then another one to the left.
But the maneuvers didn’t throw the black Honda off our tail.
Chris called George — who was riding with another Protector-provided driver, Anthony, in the second SUV, traveling in front of us — to inform him of the potential threat.
As if the driver was expecting Beyonce and Jay-Z to be inside, the Honda started following us even closer – and grew increasingly aggressive.
“Julian, to your right!” Chris exclaimed as the vehicle, bearing no front license plate, tried to pull up alongside us.
At Chris’ directions for the next 15 minutes, Julian hit the gas to squeeze through traffic lights, swerved between lanes, made quick turns and cut the Honda off.
When Chris asked if one of us could Google the closest NYPD Precinct, Savannah and I released our anxious grip on each other’s hands so she could pull up directions to the 10th Precinct on nearby West 20th Street.
Once outside the precinct, Julian had barely put the SUV in park before our fearless Protectors were outside, blaring flashlights into the Honda’s windshield and illuminating the startled expressions of the male driver and his pal in the passenger seat.
Savannah and I watched out the back window as three cops joined our bodyguards and repeatedly asked the duo inside the Honda to roll the windows down – to no avail.
Suddenly, we saw the car’s lights turn on as the driver started the ignition.
“Girls, get out and into the station, now!” Chris said, flinging the SUV door open.
Inside, Chris told us he had spotted what appeared to be camera gear in the Honda’s backseat.
“They’re probably paparazzi,” he said, drawing disbelieving cackles from Savannah and I.
“What a terrible day — we’re not even famous, and now they’re at the police station,” we mused. Cops ultimately let the unidentified duo drive off
Savannah and I were done. It was enough of the luxe life and time to go home.
I later asked Protector app founder and CEO Nick Sarath if he or any of his associates set up the 15-minute chase — but he insisted they were just as surprised as we were.
“We had nothing to do with the chasers and would never be involved in something like that,” said Sarath.
Although fame often seems appealing – and we loved the Protectors – my boyfriend later made a good point: “That never would have happened if you were in a Toyota Camry.”
