I was on the subway this evening and found myself wedged into a doorway surrounded by a pack of already drunk girls in their early 20s. They engaged me in conversation (a common mistake) about their plans for New Year’s Eve. Having decided to forego the whole New Year’s shit show that engulfs Toronto each year (line-ups and cover at your local dive bar, no taxis, sidestepping puddles of puke) for a girls night of appetizers and tequila, I decided this was my moment to perhaps make a difference. While maintaining steady eye contact with the drunkest of the herd, I bestowed this bit of wisdom and advice:

“Ladies, just…make good decisions tonight. Please.”

One girl yawned. Another checked her phone. But I think I got to one of them. There was a glimmer of understanding in her heavily made-up eyes.

And thus with just a few hours left I (possibly) fulfilled one of my new year’s resolutions for 2014: be an abortion time cop for a complete stranger.

I’m basically an urban hero. You’re welcome, dads.



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