Getting Over the Rainbow
This week, a previously unknown phenomenon swept across the Greater Boston area as myself and Christina went out and about to run a few errands. The sun crept out from a freshly-relieved cloud following the mother-and-father of all thunderstorms, bringing with it a rainbow that streaked somewhat majestically across the sky. This rainbow sometimes expressed itself as a double rainbow, and the entire citizen population collectively lost their shit.
Growing up in Ireland, a rainbow is as much a part of the sky as the sun, moon, or penis shaped cloud. It would seem that in New England it is rarer than a bleeding steak. A man stood by the highway taking pictures, people pointed from shopfronts, and certain people's fiancées nearly crashed the car on the highway. As we walked into the mall, two sickly thin smokers covered in tattoos and various piercings leaned against a car. In between drags, they both exclaimed how "fucking perfect" it was, forgetting for a brief moment that they hated their parents and had no jobs.
In Macy's, we had a brief exchange with one of the staff there in which we informed her of the double rainbow outside. When we went to check out, we couldn't find anyone to ring up our purchases. They were outside taking in the rainbow. On the drive home, the radio presenter mentioned the rainbow and decided it was good luck for the Bruins - Boston sports fans are notoriously superstitious.
When we got home, Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram feeds were littered with pictures of, and love for the rainbow, briefly pushing out the pictures of babies and exaltation following exam results. People talked about it in offices all across the city the next day much like the people of Ireland are talking of the Obama visit and how big a prick Bono is to want to have lunch with Michelle. And all I could think as I sat at the end of it, with my pot of gold, smoking a pipe was "It's only a fucking rainbow."
Here is a smattering of what went on from the local weatherman's twitter feed:
All in all Pete retweeted 17 pictures of rainbows tweeted to him. Incidentally, Pete Bouchard, our local weatherman is a bit of a character. A quick google of his name reveals this:
The reason for the "9 inches" has both nothing and everything to do with his penis size.