Yes. Yes. Yes.
/leaving work at 4:59
I love the festival of St. Patrick. It is easily my best executed drinking holiday of the year...so much so that I feel the need to celebrate it three out of four weeks during the month of March.
You think I am joking. I am not joking. (Lookadat green Masters Championship jacket!)
A brief history...
I didn't really hit my stride with St. Pats until Sophomore year of college. Fordham University, my alma mater, ensured that our Spring Break was scheduled the week of St. Patrick's Day so that most of the student body was not in NYC to celebrate. I can't say that I blame them.
Sometime in the early 2000s during one of these Spring Breaks I went to Savannah, GA. An unlikely choice (it shouldn't be, trust).
Every year, Savannah throws a debaucherous fiesta on River St. Much like Beale St. in Memphis and what I imagine all of streets in Gomorrah were like, the brau legally flows openly.
I spent the better half of my time in Savannah telling people I was the mayor of Savannah; the cream colored suit* helped sell the dream. I paid very little for beer that day.
So the rest is history and it brings us to the day before the night before the day, which is today. Based on a previous post, one may or may not assume that today falls under the bulletproof classification, whereby adrenaline will overcome any hangover symptoms resulting from tonight. However, we're talking gearing up for a whole month (or at least 70% of one), so ignore my pseudo sci-fi space time continuum philosophi just this once.
Tomorrow all St. Patrick revelry kicketh off with St. Patrick's Day in Hoboken. Each year, the township of Hoboken, NJ arbitrarily celebrates Patty's the first Saturday in March. There's a parade, people bring there kids, it's nice (so many drunk infants and toddlers, if I had a stronger moral compass I might even say too many).
The bars are packed like a rush hour 6-train by 9 a.m.. I for one have spent far too much time on the bloody shrink-wrapped 6-train, time I'll never get back in my life; I don't go to these bars.
Point of advice (as if anyone still reading this depravity needs this kind of advice), find a friend who is having a party and hole up there with a oppressive cache of alcohol. If you're in your early/late twenties I guarantee you know somebody living in Hoboken who wants to make this happen. They've been lambasted all year by the brutal realization that they live in Jersey; they might even be extra upset because they've lived there for a while and had to recently get (oh god) a New Jersey license! Anyway, this is their one chance to totally redeem themselves.
"I puked in a cab and lost my blackberry last night...I can't even think about booze until 8AM tomorrow," NYC resident Ashley Olsen, commenting on tomorrow festivities in the 'Boken.
The second week of March is like the hump week of the St. Patrick's. No real logical reason to keep celebrating. But keep in mind that there's a strong chance that you hit a new low the week prior in Jersey, and I for one find that type of momentum impossible to ignore.
This year, we're lucky enough to have the perfect opportunity to throw a housewarming party for some folks. The theme: Mad Max, Beyond Thunderdome.
Setting the bar exceedingly high for the government sanctioned Patty's day. It is what it is.
The third week...
Much like Halloween, the closest weekend to March 17 becomes the dedicated dia de la. Sure I'll eat a corn beef sandwich and guzzle a few Brew-ce Willis'. But let's be serious, you've got to optimize your performance. And March 17th is a Monday (travesty) this year, so Saturday, March 15 is the de facto day. This year, The South Street Sea Port Irish Stroll is being held then - from 1-9 p.m.
Yet, another opportunity to don my green blazer. At least the second opportunity of the month, possibly the third depending on the availability of green eye patches and green spiked knee pads for Beyond Thunderdome.
So there you have it...at the end of this three weeks I'll be that much closer to golf season and there's a 80% chance I'll still be gainfully employed.
Happy St. Patrick's Month, cheers.
*During my time in the Bronx I use to frequent the Salvation Army on Jerome Avenue. Some equally slender bronxite, who also knew about this Sal's, used to feed me suits (leisure, three piece, etc.) like it was his job.