Again, this is a true story.

The town of Stratford-upon-Avon in Ontario, Canada serves three purposes to the high school student: 1, the town's Shakespearean drama is paralleled by nobody, and you will never find any better a place to study the bard's work than in the recreation of the Globe Theater at the edge of town; 2, the only native forms of life seem to be the almost unbearable quantity of gorgeously attractive Canadian Catholic school girls; 3, God seems to have direct influence on the events that happen in the town.

A year after my previous experience in Stratford, I found myself yet again in the town that shares its name with William Shakespeare's hometown in Warwickshire. Following a short walk along the serene Avon, two of my (male) friends and I (two different friends than previously referenced) approached an intersection. We intended to turn left at said intersection, and, as luck would have it, three gorgeously attractive Canadian Catholic school girls in short, plaid skirts and knee-socks emerged from the building on the corner and stood at the very crosswalk we intended on crossing. I stopped while I was still several meters from the girls, turned around to face my friends, smiled, praised God and the Catholics, and turned back around to continue toward the intersection. God must have been generous that day, because from the same building, 10 more gorgeously attractive Canadian Catholic school girls in short, plaid skirts and knee-socks appeared to join the previous three.

I am not a very worldly man, but there is a certain feeling one gets when walking behind 13 gorgeously attractive Canadian Catholic school girls in short, plaid skirts and knee-socks with three of your friends that is quite unlike any other experience I am familiar with. I surprised myself by having the ability to still perform basic math functions in my head while trailing these women, and I decided that four and one third girl for each of us was plenty enough to make any school trip, even one to watch a Shakespearean play in the middle of Canada, worth while.

Unfortunately, my friends and I were on a tight schedule and only had one hour to travel into town, grab a bite to eat and return to the theater to see the performance. We decided it best to avoid indulging in our carnal fantasies, and to visit the House of Gene, a wonderful Canadian/Chinese restaurant. One of my friends, the horniest of us three, sat at our table and cursed himself for following us into the restaurant. In an attempt to calm him down, I explained to him that we were on a tight schedule, and that it took us 10 minutes to reach the restaurant, so we had to hurry else we would be in trouble. I also said to him, "If God truly exists, then as we leave the restaurant, we'll catch the same group of girls coming back to the theater."

I know now that God must exist, for as I was paying my bill, the same group of 13 gorgeously attractive Canadian Catholic school girls in the same short, plaid skirts and the same knee-socks passed the window in front of the restaurant and waved at us. When he saw them through the window, my friend (the horny one) pushed me aside, threw a US $50 at me, told me not to wait up, and ran after the group with his camera unfurled.

The pictures still ring the one truth I've learned in my visits to Stratford-upon-Avon: Catholicism is God-sent.

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