The weather outside was amazing. Like no snow or parkas or dogs with booties. It was over 55! Man alive!
As one would under these conditions I decided to break out my bagpipes.
Being a Manhattan piper without mega-bucks, I have no indoor place to play and so it was to the Hudson River I went. I took the 14 Crosstown bus toward the Westside highway to seek out a wee plot to blow me pipes and get the cobwebs out.
I noticed the bus was not going to stop where I had "envisioned." I spoke to the driver. He was Irish from the Bronx. We talked pubs and pipes and St. Patrick's Day. I asked him where the best stop was to get out and he just dropped me off exactly where I wanted. I made my own stop. Like car service.
That would never have happened with and Italian or Puerto Rican driver, NOT because they are mean, but just because they are not 'family" in that way.
I notice this a lot. Like when I was booted by security for playing pipes in Times Square illegally. An Irish cop came to my rescue and bought me water even! The Irish in this town take care of their own. As I am sure other groups do as well.
I am not saying it is right, but it works.
I wished him a Happy St. Patrick's Day and he did me and when he drove off waived farewell like I lived in a small town.