You could tell the gardai in Dublin were taking industrial action because the cars outside Pearse Street station were only doubleparked instead of the normal three abreast.
Inside, a single, very youthful garda was fielding all inquiries with almost excessive politeness. "No, sir, we don't have a copy of the Amsterdam Treaty, but you might find one in Government Publications, sir."
Out on the streets, the "Thin Blue Line" defending the capital's citizenry was thin all right, but most of the callow youths who were pressed into service for the GRA's day of action had donned bright yellow fluorescent tops. These made them highly visible, but also conveniently hid the fact that these gardai were wearing the sky-blue stripe of a student.
A sun-drenched O'Connell Street was the scene of a crime wave. At that notorious magnet for criminals, the Anna Livia fountain, someone had let loose with a box of soap powder, and the air was filled with suds. Women with prams rolled up to sell flowers and sweets on illegal pitches. Buskers busked and preachers preached, blissfully unimpeded.
Two pairs of probationers patrolled each side of the street, fielding the usual questions, like how to get to Temple Bar (at least 10 times an hour). A woman selling shag tobacco told me she'd been moved on a few times, but got a real fright when she saw "her Super" on the beat for the first time.
On the bridge, the collectors for the lifeboats, in their yellow oilskins, could have been mistaken for the gardai. Peter said he'd been "23 year collecting on the bridge" and he'd never seen guards so polite. "But they're all kids and crocks," he snorted.
Sirens blared at regular intervals to remind us that the detectives were working normally, as events elsewhere in the State would later show. Two Garda motorcyclists escorted a limousine through the city centre. Minibuses ferried the student gardai around the city according to the contingency plan drawn up by the Commissioner.
From early morning, the available gardai were posted to high-profile buildings around the city - the Dail, Dublin Castle, the front of Trinity College. Senior gardai marshalled students less than half their age.
Outside the Dail, two chatty probationers said they'd been rostered for a 6 a.m. to 6 p.m. shift, but they weren't sure they would be relieved in the evening. If not, they would have to stay in position. "At least there'll be the overtime," one sighed.
Across the road an RTE camera crew was shooting pictures of a car parked on a double yellow line. The car was ticketed.
