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Finding Magic in the Mundane
In the grand tapestry of human existence, we all have our little superstitions and rituals that make absolutely no logical sense. Some people avoid stepping on cracks to save their mother’s back, others religiously follow their “lucky” morning routine before a big presentation. Me? I’ve got a direct line to Pat, the patron saint of parking spots.
Now, before any theological scholars come at me with their well-researched arguments about the canonization process and the official roster of saints, let me be clear: St. Pat is entirely made up. One night, as my wife and I were leaving the awards gala of the New Jersey Web Festival, we bemoaned how hard it would be to find parking near our apartment after midnight. Laughingly, an attendee said “just pray to Pat!” Pat, you see, had been a childhood friend with the best parking luck of all time. Ever since, this person prays to Pat, and parking spots magically appear. About 10 minutes away from our apartment we gave it a shot. “Pat?” We asked. “We’re tired. Any chance you could help us out with parking?” Miraculously, a spot appeared not a 60 second walk from our front door, at 1am, in New York City. And thus, a new deity was introduced to our lives.
The ritual is always the same. As we approach our neighborhood after a late night out, one of us will inevitably pipe up: “Hey Pat?” We’ll then proceed to have a brief…
