Just when I think life is a bit ho-hum, I need not look further than the local transporation system for amusement and reminder of St. Patrick's Day.
I almost forgot it about this holiday until I happened to be at St. Patrick's station. Actually, the station name wasn't what triggered the holiday. On the subway platform was a guy holding two placards and a plastic bag. One of the signs read 'Bad Cop, No Donuts'. "I thought that was kinda funny," he bragged a thick Irish accent akin to Brad Pitt's in Snatch. The elderly lady standing on the subway platform listened politely. The guy asked if she knew where the protest was being held. He went on about how he was badly mistreated by cops and wanted to join the protest. "They had a boot on the back of my head," he recalled. He muttered more details, but I couldn't quite understand him.
"I'm from Ireland and I thought I would stop by St. Patrick Station since it was St. Patrick's Day," he explained to the elderly woman. The woman, who happened to be visiting from out-of-town, apologetically said she didn't know where the rally was and suggested maybe she knew where it was (as I happened to be standing beside her at that point). I hemmed and hawed, not sure what to say. After the affable Irish guy figured he couldn't pump any useful information from us, he said "God bless, lassie," and headed up out of the subway station to search for the rally somewhere in Toronto.
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