I'm spoiled with the Vermont weather and don't get too excited about a couple inches anymore, but everyone here seems to be pretty excited by even just a dusting. Snowball fights seem to be all too common, much like at home. However, while my buddies and I can have a good brawl at school, I don't remember ever waiting on the streets as a kid and asking passersby, "are you American?" and then wailing them with snowballs if the answer wasn't "yes." Irish are more keen on this kind of fun. I don't really know what I was expecting when I answered "no I'm not Irish" to a line of young Irish boys grasping fresh snowballs in each hand. I immediately knew my mistake as the fatal words slipped from my mouth. For a second I thought they were gonna let me go, but sure enough, three icy pieces of ammo came rapid fire to the back of my bed. I've learned by now that if in contact with a group of kids in matching track suits, just keep walking. It was funny until I kept walking and turned to see one of the boys running after me with a new hunk of snow, which he launched over the suburban brick wall barricade, crashing into me again. Another thing I've learned - sometimes people just need a little taste of their own medicine. When he came at me a third time ready to unload, I came right back at him with a good, "fuck off."
Game over.
Okay so you're imagining these cute little boys playing on their snowday, trying to have a little fun with strangers on the street, and I'm that bitch who's waltzing through like Scrooge on Christmas. Think again. These "little" kids really aren't so little, and the last group like this to come at me threw a lit match in my hair and laughed like it was the greatest trick they ever played.
Don't worry mom - I'm safe.
got me!!
ReplyDeletexoxoxo, mom