A funny thing happened on the way to the blog...

About a week ago, I was walking across town for a meeting on Leeson Street to set up a contingency site for work. It was late in the afternoon on a mid-January day and approaching dusk. I decided to cut through St. Stephen's Green to get away from the noise of the traffic for a while and made my way across to the opposite corner of the park. Probably due to the late hour of the day and the cold weather, the park was virtually deserted.

As I walked across the central floral garden of the park, I noticed the decline in sound coming from the busy streets nearby, the constant thrum still present, but evidently baffled somewhat by the trees. The relative silence coupled with the growing dark gave me a feeling of unease.

It was then that I noticed a lone figure walking towards me, a woman. Not wearing my glasses, the stranger was upon me before I could make out her features, but I could see enough to register a sudden look of recognition.

"Declan, how are ya?"

My face must have betrayed some degree of surprise and embarrassment; she followed her greeting with, "It's Tara, from AIB."

I stammered a response. "Uh, I'm really sorry... I know we must have met, um, Tara... but I'm afraid I don't remember..."

"What do you mean," she replied, "we worked in the bank together for three years! You're Declan Dolan. We sat next to each other... don't you remember?"

"Look, I'm sorry," I said, "but it's been a while, I haven't worked there since I was in my twenties and i just don't remember you. I hope you're not offended..." 

A sly smile crossed the girl's face, as though she expected me to declare the whole thing a joke.

"What do you mean, since your twenties? You're two months younger than I am, Declan!" She laughed, thinking she'd caught me in a simple logical trap.

"I'm sorry, miss," I replied, "but maybe you've got me mixed up with someone else. I'm thirty-five."

She made as if to laugh once more, then took another look at my slight paunch, receding hairline, the lines in my face. Behind her eyes, the words "He could well be thirty-five" were visible as if her skull were made of glass.

"Look," I said, "I have to go, but it was nice talking to you." As I turned to walk away I saw the unease growing on her face. As I hurried away, I looked back a single time to see her standing there, feet rooted, a look of confusion and fear on her face.

And I thought to myself, "Ha haa, sucker!!" She was always soooo stupid.