Erin Go Bragh March 17, 2005 ~ 11:00 am
Posted by Julie in : Daily Grind , comments closed
Julz the leprechaun, taken by JMBella at a Geocaching event Tuesday night.
I think the above picture is one of the few taken of me where I’m not blinking. There were so many flashes going off, it was hard to figure out when to blink. Maybe that’s a good thing. Thanks, Joe, for a good picture of me - they’re very rare.
Today I could write about my mom’s upcoming visit (she’ll be here this evening), or about Tuesday’s “Kiss Me, I’m Irish” Geocaching event (where I met some great people who knew exactly what I was talking about when I said “I found Froggy Bottom!”), but I think instead I’ll give you one of my favorite St. Patrick’s Day memories, from the first year I lived in New York.
My friend Kim was here for a visit, and she and I and my old roomate Shawn decided that we were going to go to the St. Patrick’s Day Parade. What the hell, it has to be experienced once, right? We went, and it was all the chaos you would expect. It was 11 AM and people were drunk off their asses. Pipe and drum bands were taking over the streets, and the Guinness was flowing freely from paper bag covered cans in the crowd on the sidewalks (we have open container laws here, you know). After about two hours of the insanity, we decided we were hungry and left in search of food. Got some Thai food because that was the only non-crowded restaraunt in midtown, and then went out for beer.
We ended up at Garvey’s Pub, also known as the Martini Bar, down the street from the Royale Theatre. (If I have ever told you the story of my first trip to New York, you’ll know why I give the location that way. If not, I’ll tell you that story another time.) We ordered beers, and soon after the first round, members of New York’s Bravest wandered in and immediately immersed themselves in their own drinks. Soon, they were drunk, and celebrating the holiday by singing “Danny Boy” alternating with “That’s Amore”. On St. Patrick’s Day we’re all Irish, but some of us are still more Italian than others.
Around 4 PM, Shawn and I realized we were drunk, marking a new “Earliest in the Day We’ve Ever Been Hammered” record, a record which has been smashed several times since then due to SuperBowl parties and September 11, 2001. So there we were, drunk, sitting on a pool table in a madly crowded green-decked bar, singing “That’s Amore” for the 700th time with our new best friends from the FDNY, and in walks a bagpiper in full Celtic regalia, spurring us into the 701th chorus of “Danny Boy”. All was right with the world.
May your St. Patrick’s Day be as joyous and hazy in your memory as that one is in mine. Alcohol is a wonderful thing.
