At Least I Tried

Near misses are becoming my specialty. I almost whored myself to the bastions of global capitalism, but the money was not enough. I almost found my ideal woman, but it was not to be. I almost finished my PhD, but the algorithm did not work. I almost went to Paris this weekend, but the flights were too expensive.

Today, I almost became a concerned citizen.

Standing at the doorway of a small newsagent on Wicklow Street, I scanned the magazine rack for this week's The Economist. The display was sadly devoid. Turning to leave, I became aware of a small commotion within the shop.

A glance inside revealed a few agitated Oriental shop assistants behind the counter and a young local girl with a few small children. The young mother moved slowly towards the entrance. One small boy, perhaps three years of age, held two bottles of Coke and a sandwich.

Feigning innocence, the mother turned to acknowledge the annoyed gibberish of the shop assistants and muttered to her son

"Run outside. Go on, run off!"

Her son duly obliged and she followed like the dutiful mother she was. Annoyed at this brazen theft, an assistant followed them past me.

Somewhat ashamed at my lack of interference, I wandered further, bringing my Grail Quest in vain to the remaining newsagents at the end of the street. Annoyed at my failure as both a consumer and a citizen, I doubled-back to Suffolk Street for lunch.

The Garda van remained unnoticed until I walked past it.

In the three minutes since I had left the shop, a huge crowd had gathered around it, including a number of uniformed Gardai and a backup car. A quick glance up the street showed another Garda car turning onto the street.

Rubbernecking was rife, and the street had come to a standstill. I observed shapes moving at the end of an open alley beside a restaurant a few door down from the shop. A Garda badge on a shirt flashed briefly. All the bystanders attention was consumed by this ten-foot-wide gap. I assumed the woman and her children had fled up there.

It struck me like a bolt of Zeusian inspiration from the clear blue sky. This woman's casual use of her tiny children to steal had angered me. Her racism-laced deception and contempt galled. I would tell the Gardai what I had seen. I no longer cared about the inconvenience. I felt it was the right thing to do.

Alas, all the officers had disappeared. Undeterred, I decided to enter the shop and tell the assistants what I had seen. Upon reaching the counter, a Garda officer entered.

He did not look happy.

I learned that the woman does this every day. Frustrated and annoyed, the staff hit the panic button. Assuming it was an armed robbery, all nearby Gardai converged on the area. Annoyed at the false alarm, they explained this as calmly as they could manage, requesting the normal phone number be used for future incidents.

At this point, I realised my worth as a witness had dwindled to worthless, and promptly left, leaving the staff and Gardai to reach an understanding by themselves.

Still, at least I tried.