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Sunday, March 16th, 2008

Paddy's

We did not dress according to the weather, but Jenna and I know how to make something out of anything.

Our journey began with green bagels from Brueggers, because why not? The women's bathroom was clogged, so Jenna had to sneak into the men's. We navigated our way around innocent college students who all just happened to like Barq's rootbeer, a delightful coincidence. There were spots of light rain but nothing serious. On the T, an odd-looking couple made out excessively behind me, and the girl stuck her leg between my legs at one point.

At Andrew Square, the end point of the parade route, we stood around a corner, trying to find the best spot from which to watch. I took some pictures. Soon, a man who would later call himself Mike came up to us to make small talk. By small talk I mean much too long talk. About what makes parades great. What makes Southie bad. What makes Southie good! What are you taking pictures for? Are you a professional? Photojournalism, that would be great. Just like me, I work in a somethingsomething. I've been to every state but Hawaii. I drive 500 miles every night, it's amazing. Boston's such a great place to film a movie. Six locations right now, maybe even seven. No way, where's the studio going to go? Wow, thanks for that news! What kind of camera is that? Is it expensive? What a nice camera. Is it a DSLR? Do you know what that stands for? What a nice camera, I'd like one of those, I bet.

He apologized for being "that asshole who talks to you the entire time!" to which Jenna mumbled, "I cannot do this the whole time." Mike tried to shake hands with a man standing across from us, between the barrier and a row of newspaper dispensers. The man, Marty, humorlessly refused. When Mike recognized someone, Marty and his wife turned around and moved a dispenser to let us into their area.

"Nice spot!" said Mike.

"Private party," replied his wife, adding to us, "I don't like the way he talks about that camera."

Although the parade was set to start at 1:00, nothing happened until 1:20, when the firetrucks and police rolled through.

And then.

NOTHING FOR TWO HOURS.

It was outrageous. Freezing and rainy and absolutely nothing for two hours. The family next to us tried to pass the time by dissecting sentence diagrams (I piped in that "is" is a verb, reaching my pretentious English major quota for the day). Jenna and I talked for a while. The police stood in a ring in the center of the square so that no one could reach them unless they jumped the barricade, and no one could jump the barricade because every set of joints was frozen. Where was the parade? Yes, we were at the end, but it's two miles! Do you have any idea how many parades I've marched in my lifetime? I know a thing or two about a thing or two. There's always a delay, but this was ridiculous. Maybe they canceled it. Maybe this was the wrong square, regardless of the hundreds of cranky people around us. We called our parents and asked if there was anything on the news.

"No, the parade started at 1:00," said my mom.

"Really? Because I've been watching absolutely nothing for an hour and a half!"

"At least it's not that cold out."

"DON'T TELL ME WHAT IS AND ISN'T."

Because it was that cold. And we were in thin shoes and too few layers. And we were miserable. "I don't know," we said about fifty times. But our spot was so good--if the parade were going to show up, we'd be sacrificing a really awesome spot. We pretended that we were seeing things at the top of the hill. Was that a group of soldiers or just a lot of goths? Is that a float or a very tall person? Here comes a car! Oh no, it's just the Velocar guy again.

At 3:00, The Red Cross, bless its little heart, finally showed up. No one cheered for it. The VFWs got some claps. The bagpipers were much appreciated.

And then.

NOTHING.

We booked it out of there, our feet unable to take it anymore. We'd been rooted to the same (prime!) spot for two hours in the drizzle and the cold, so we walked like zombies. Back at South Station, we took every escalator and then decided to warm up with coffee and pretzels at Auntie Anne's. While waiting in line, Jenna suddenly looked up.

"He just stole my--!"

When it comes to fight or flight, Jenna Broderick does both. She was off! chasing a guy down through the station, darting this way and that, only to realize her wallet was in her other pocket.

"I don't understand it. We've had the most boring day, standing still while nothing happened, and somehow we keep pretending like exciting things are happening."

"I can't feel my feet or my hands now."

 

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