St. Patrick's Day. The birthday of my cousin Patrick as well as my late grandfather (and namesake) John Patrick. Usually on this day I eagerly participate in the traditional "Fulfillin' O' the Stereotypes" at a local pub, but I confess to sorta taking this year off. Sorta.
Last year at this time I jumped at the chance to make some extra cash by working the door at The Hidden Shamrock, where some pals and I are regulars. From 9am until around 6pm on a Saturday, my cousin and I split the responsibility of wrangling a half-block long line of sloppy amateurs until it was their turn to pay $5 for the privilege of coming in to drink. Honestly? The year-old memory of that embarrassing debacle scarred me enough to skip the main course of this year's communal festivities.
I wasn't completely unobservant. Sunday afternoon Brooke, Sully and I returned to the scene of last year's crime for The Hidden Shamrock's traditional Irish music session. Banjos and bodhrans were played, cornbeef and cabbage was eaten, pints were emptied, but responsibly. While there, we were pleasantly reminded of the path not taken as we were treated to scores of green-hued enthusiasts stumbling out of school buses returning from the South Side Parade.
Today I stayed on the straight and narrow thanks to a work-related luncheon at an Italian restaurant ... which was across from Fado, a huge Irish pub that was bustling with St. Patrick's Day revelers.
O'Well. At least they served our iced tea in pint glasses.
4 comments:
Isn't it nice to be old enough to listen to all the hints that you've had enough?? Aren't you glad the next day?? . . . Me neither!
Now, when I drink too much, I just get heartburn and a headache. I used to be SO much fun . . .
Anyway, glad you had a chance to gather with friends. Your grandfather would have liked that.
Thanks for the update.
I did laundry on St. Patty's Day. I'm lame.
This year we were bums... maybe next yeasr we will make it back for that sweatshirt!
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