So, in Paris to catch up with people from home, and I had a bright idea for a social event on Sunday.

A picnic at the Champ de Mars, official Parisian viewing site for the 2016 European Championship, which would be played at the Stade de France in the north of the city.

A day in the sun, a big blanket spread anywhere we found an open spot on the Champ’s extensive grounds … and then as darkness fell, watching the Euro final on the big outdoor screens!

Thank goodness, I was saved from myself and none of that happened.

First, came word from some full-time Parisians who insisted that being at the Champ de Mars (site of the Eiffel Tower) on Sunday would not be good for anyone of a certain age — say, over 35. Too many people, many of them drunk. Shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee with 90,000 of our closest friends, the grass all beaten down to dust.

That gave me pause.

Then, it became clearer that this viewing party would have very little similarity to the event I had in my mind — the three tenors concert at the Champ de Mars on the eve of the 1998 World Cup.

That one allowed a person to walk into the area Champ and move forward as far as he or she could get without trampling someone, and listening to the maestros. I stood on the exposed roots of a tree, and was able to hear the tenors and see them, too.

This event, however, involved fencing around the Champ, a few fixed points of entry, metal detectors and perhaps frisking. It was not clear that alcohol could be taken through the checks, and what is a French picnic without a bottle of wine?

I was wavering now.

What saved me from myself was seeing France win its semifinal match and qualify for the Sunday final — a result which set off some in-the-streets reactions from France fans.

So, a Champ de Mars crowd of potentially 90,000 people. A game that might not end till after 11 p.m.  And our friends/family needing to work their way back out to the western suburbs.

So, called if off. No picnic. Not on Euro final day at a fenced-off patch of the Champ de Mars.

We watched the match from several locations, and as the evening went on we began to hear reports of people who had arrived “late” at the viewing site — at 7 p.m., only two hours before kickoff — skirmishing with the police.

We saw the photos of trash fires at the base of the Eiffel Tower, and of youths throwing rocks at the police, who then charged the kids … and well, did we really need to be part of any of that?

Of course not.

It seemed like such a good idea, originally. Cheese, sausages, wine, sprawled on the lawn.

But it was fantasy. Naivete. And thank goodness that percolated through the warm and fuzzy fiction.

Instead, we met for lunch at Maison L’Aubrac, a fine establishment not far from the Champs Elysees, and we got more than enough of the game atmosphere there, as people began to gather for the match.

And then we got out of the area and watched it all from the comfort of a living room. Much better idea.