I was waiting at a gate to board a plane yesterday. There were older people, people with infants, people with toddlers, people with high-status airline loyalty cards.
The first boarding announcement invited everyone with a musical instrument to come forward to be boarded first.
I saw the miniature Google logo, wrapped in green and white and warm, and for a moment, had no idea which event it was commemorating: St. Patrick's Day or the sesquicentennial of Italian unification. Finally, the '150' gave it away. Red, not orange.
Down in the campo, the flagpole is holding up under an enormous flag, so high for the mast that it drapes down nearly to the ground. One of the newspapers came with a copy of the text of the constitution. The streets are quiet for the one-off national holiday, most of the shops closed. Many of their windows have tastefully color-coded pieces of nationalism in the country's three colors. The canals are quiet too, with no deliveries.
The Casinò has free entry this evening, in honor of the celebrations, but three-fifths of us did not think to bring ID to enable us to look around the building. We wait for the remaining two-fifths in an entry hall approximately three times the size of my entire house, although the decorations are second-rate. On the way home, we pass clusters of drinkers outside of bars, many of them wearing high-topped Guiness hats in honor of the day, whatever it is.